


Lounge

by reylotrashpiler (Hosnianprime)



Series: you're just like a movie [3]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: "doesn't do personal" whooopss, Actor!KyloRen, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Angst, BDSM freeform, Begging, Bondage, Cannes 2019 because I'm a hoe, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Kylo Ren, Double Penetration, Edgeplay, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Hair-pulling, I blame a certain photo for this, Journalist Rey, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo tries his best to be a good little monster to his girl, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Mild humiliation kink, Mirror Sex, My usual animal metaphors, No Plot/Plotless, Now with a hint of plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rey gets her mouth shut up by a tie, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, This fic is a stiff drink after a long day, Vaginal Fingering, blowjob, but Kylo is a superb dom, not exactly clearly negotiated BDSM play, paintrains colliding, vibrator play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hosnianprime/pseuds/reylotrashpiler
Summary: "Come here."She is not proud, but she leaps out of her seat to cross over to him, rounding the coffee table only to stand in front of him with a drumming heart and shaky puffs of breath, not knowing what to do.She is not this person. Is she?Getting wet at being commanded around… obliging the one-word barks of a man she doesn't know."Kneel."She sinks.I totally am.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally just _that _picture and a blowjob.__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _Time for my yearly Cannes tribute._  
> 

 

" _ Sit _ ."

 

He stretches lazily on the couch, long limbs claiming every inch of the space. Above his head, a heavy oil painting of two cheetahs hangs. The animals are lounging in the savannah, one rolled submissively under the belly of the other, and Rey immediately feels like it’s a metaphor for her. Kylo Ren looks like the pack leader of the big cats in a bespoke tuxedo and crisp white shirt. He emanates the aura of a drug lord, of a man who can get everything with just a careless tilt of his head.

 

It's because he  _ can. _

 

Rey is not sure she could be any more than a gazelle in the focus of the predator even if she tried.

 

She wonders, for a moment, if landing this one-on-one interview was a mistake instead of the next level of her career; why she even  _ bothers _ trying to hack it as a journalist when it would be easier to be a trophy wife.

 

Maybe the wife of this man.

 

Maybe his  _ pet. _ His go-to drug. His rug doll.

 

She shouldn't think these things, but how can she  _ not _ when he doesn't  _ invite _ her to sit, but right-out  _ commands _ her with a careless intonation and a voice deeper than her motherfucking issues with her compulsion to conform.

 

The air is thick with the same degree of heat she imagines for the backdrop of an African pampa, and she is this newborn gazelle who doesn't know how the rules work yet and - instead of fleeing - wants to feel the cheetah sink its teeth deep in her neck.

 

And  _ tear. _

 

She eventually, inelegantly, nearly collapses on the plush chaise as her legs give in.

 

He follows her movements with a frightening focus, still not changing his commanding posture an inch; he doesn't bother to take his shoes off the coffee table (laden with expensive Champagne and fresh fruits) and continues showing her the underside of his pristine leather shoes. He is  _ rude _ , her British heart whispers, outraged, but the gazelle in her doesn't care and she would maybe lick those shoes if he asked her to.

 

No. 

 

No. She  _ definitely _ would.

 

He waits. 

 

Oh. She should speak now.

 

"T-thank you for having me, Mr. Ren," she begins shakily, and she is just as unconvincing as she feels.

 

"Can I?” he interjects.

 

She startles. Sure he means  _ may _ ? 

 

She blinks politely.

 

He moves unhurriedly, drawing his long limbs together, the cheetah preparing to pounce.He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and continues pinning her with his eyes.

 

"Have you," he says as a way of explanation. 

 

In that moment, Rey knows that it's not his bad grammar. His grammar is rarely incorrect (she knows this because she’s read every article and watched every interview available). He means  _ exactly _ what he says because he  _ knows _ he  _ may _ have her. 

 

It's just a matter of timing.

 

"Yes," she breathes out. 

 

Maybe she should do the interview first, though? 

 

He leans back, spreading his arms on the sofa, crossing his ankle over his thigh and she cannot miss how the black line of his tuxedo measures against the furniture. It almost matches the length.

 

He is huge. 

 

She feels tiny.

 

"Come here."

 

She is not proud, but she  _ leaps _ out of her seat to cross over to him, rounding the coffee table only to stand in front of him with a drumming heart and shaky puffs of breath, not knowing what to do.

 

She is not this person.  _ Is she? _

 

Getting wet at being commanded around… obliging the one-word barks of a man she doesn't know.

 

"Kneel."

 

She sinks. His eyes follow.

 

_ She totally is. _

 

He contemplates her almost indifferently, his gaze sliding over her modest neckline, her short sleeves, her face, her hair.

 

He settles on her eyes again.

 

_ Would she do? Is she good enough? _

 

Surely, she is subpar to the actresses whom he --

 

"You're breathtaking," he murmurs.

 

Okay. She can work with that.  _ Breathtaking _ . 

 

She licks her lips.

 

"Can I?” she whispers.

 

"What?” He seems amused that she even dared to ask him anything.

 

"Take away your breath." 

 

Gods, she is not only  _ this person, _ she is also a person who is just borderline begging to…

 

Her cheeks glow red. Probably she is as red as a tomato. 

 

Not very appealing.

 

"Yes." He places his other leg back on the ground. He  _ manspreads _ right in front of her face.

 

Oh. Oh he is  _ ready. _

 

If she wasn't so sure that he won't tell anyone, she wouldn't throw herself at him with such abandon, unhooking his fine leather belt and pulling down his zipper. 

 

He wears an obnoxiously fine undergarment, and his cock strains against it. She pulls down the elastic and takes him into her mouth. He tastes like fresh shower, and she moans around him. Her cunt clenches along with her whole abdomen, demanding to be filled with this.

 

He yanks her head off him with a rough pull by her hair, and she, in her delirium, realises that it's the first time he has touched her in any way. 

 

_ How decadent. _

 

Her mouth hangs slack, and her eyes protest opening to reality.

 

He tilts her head backwards some more, just on this edge of painful.

 

"Don't ruin my suit," he warns.

 

Swallowing thickly, she nods.

 

He lets go, but not before running his pointer finger along her lips. She feels like he’s imagining touching an artifact, and he looks like he wants to kiss her. But he doesn't. He leans back and waits.

 

She obediently drops over him again, the perimeter of his shaft stretching her jaw uncomfortably as she tried not to bite him accidentally. 

 

Her hand comes to cover where her mouth can't, and when she hollows her cheeks, he hisses a curse. A glance up confirms that his facade has cracked, and maybe she starts to feel smug about it, just when he places a hand on the back of her head and pushes  _ down.  _

 

Gradually, she takes him more and more and  _ more,  _ until she gags and her airflow ebbs.

 

She tenses, panicking. 

 

"Relax, breathe," he croons. She does her best to obey, and he lets up just enough to let her suck in some air.

 

She is so  _ wet _ . It's almost painful. 

 

He threads his fingers through her hair, guiding her on his shaft as he pleases. She licks at the underside from the base to the tip with abandon, lets him push her to her limits.

 

She grazes him with her teeth once and he hisses.

 

"Fuck," he says with a want so deep it shakes her to her core.

 

Before she can pull off to apologise, he pushes her back down.

 

"Do it again," he commands, and she does. 

 

It's eerie how he loses control after that, hips bucking into her mouth. At a point, he simply stands up, placing both hands on her head, and fucks her throat hard. 

 

It's nothing if not a religious experience. She totally is this person who enjoys this rough, detached handling. Slick pools between her thighs while she grabs her legs for support.

 

He doesn't even say a word, at least nothing intelligible. Her hair is debauched from his fingers as he finds purchase on her. Her cunt throbs, and she wants to touch herself so badly, if only she weren't wearing trousers. 

 

Very nice trousers, that is - beige ones that went well with her white blouse… but it doesn't matter now, only that she can't get her hands on herself and… 

 

She hollows her cheeks some more and bobs her head, willing him to  _ get there already _ .

 

He slams into her once, twice-- _ hard _ \--before he cums with a grunt and some blurred curses  Without warning, of course. He isn't a gentleman.

 

She does her best to swallow, but it isn't easy with how deep down he is in her throat. 

 

When he pulls out, a drop lands on his shoes before she can catch it.

 

_ At least it's not on his tux,  _ she muses while she wipes off her mouth.

 

She remains on her knees, out of breath, feeling riled up and exhausted at the same time.

 

She hears him tuck himself back into his pants, the whirring of the zipper and the click of the belt.

 

There is a pause after that, where he doesn't move.

 

She glances up.

 

He arches a brow.

 

He doesn't even need to point to his shoes for her to understand what he wants.

 

She feels light-headed all of a sudden.  _ She said she would if he asked her. _

 

Sticking her ass in the air, giving him a show, she bows forward, until her tongue connects with the black leather and the last drop is wiped clean.

 

She leans back, daring her with her stare.

 

She can feel that he is stunned, that she has landed a blow, for a fraction of a second before he slams his poker face back on.

 

"You can finish yourself off," he offhandedly remarks, stepping to the full length mirror and taking a critical look at his appearance. He straightens his hair and adjusts his shirt, brushing off some invisible particles.

 

_ Alright, fine. I just crawled on my knees and begged to be face-fucked for a masturbation in a suit. _

 

"Or you can wait for me till the afterparty wraps and let me do my job."

 

It hits her unexpectedly, because he doesn't seem to be bothered with her in the least, now fussing with his bow tie.

 

She huffs in disbelief, raking a hand through her hair.

 

"Don't believe me?”

 

She snaps her attention back to him, seeing that he studies her from the mirror.

 

"I…" she licks her lips (still tastes like his cum), "I'll guess we'll find out."

 

Something flickers in his eyes, but she can't quite place it, because she is busy getting her numb legs to work.

 

"You might want to freshen up. Use what you find in the bathroom. I gotta go."

 

She nods absently,  _ whatever, _ rubbing her knees.

 

He pauses with a hand already on the doorknob.

 

"You know… you really did."

 

"What?”

 

"Take my breath away," he rumbles, and when their eyes meet, he is looking at her a touch softer than before.

 

Her lips twitch in abandoned smile.

 

"I'll send you my usual whatever canned interview," he says before opening the door without saying goodbye.

 

What for, when they'll meet soon? 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stooped down and out, you got me beggin' for thread  
> To sew this hole up that you ripped in my head  
> Stupidly think you had it under control  
> Strapped down to something that you don't understand  
> Don't know what you were getting yourself into  
> You should have known, secretly I think you knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act 2. Mind the tags.

His ears are ringing while he walks the corridors, and avoiding his manager's inquisitive stares is like walking a minefield. One has already exploded in his face. Like the fool he is, he exited the room without the reporter who went in. This could only mean murder or sex. The answer is clearly written in his slackened steps for those who know where to look. And Phasma _does_ know, thus he keeps painstakingly focused on the door at the far end. One glance at Phasma would be enough to get dragged aside for his lecture of 'fucking think with your brain, Kylo.' 

 

But he can't do it now. Not when his eyes are still hallucinating this girl on her knees in front of him.

 

The risk of what he has done makes him nauseous. Not because of the rumors. Phasma would take care of those, and she is even more frightening than Olivia Pope when on a mission.

 

Not the rumors.

 

This _thing_ is what worries him most. The desire this woman has invoked in him. This side of him that has long been buried. This monster locked away for so long in the center of the maze inside of him without a red thread.

 

This monster that now demands to be fed in the wake of tasting fresh blood.

 

It's ancient, really. _Untamed._ _Dangerous._

 

He was reckless when he told her to come back for more. Very much so.

 

This little bird with bones so soft he could slurp them for lunch has no idea what she has gotten herself into.

 

He bites the insides of his cheeks, fighting with himself. He should give her a way out. _If she isn't careful enough to find it on her own._

 

But he wants to lure her deep into that maze, to coax her into leaving the red thread outside so he can lock her away for his pleasure.

 

Oh, he would make her crave things she doesn't have words for.

 

_I would teach her how to say them_.

 

She would ask and he would give. She would ask and he would _refuse._ Show her the pleasure of taking what he allows her to have.

 

He broods. Even more so than usual. He wants nothing more than to go back to his room and finish what they started.

 

When it's showtime, he puts on his best manners. Answers. Smiles. _Waves_. Female reporters drool all over him, and he recoils from their friendly touches. They burn him even through his tux.

 

_Which she has_ _not_ _ruined._

 

The frames of his movie are a white noise. Instead of the screen, he stares at his shoe the whole time: the one which has her saliva on it.

 

He doesn't understand how this has happened. He had himself in check. Apparently, a pair of hazel eyes, chestnut waves of hair, and a British accent is enough for him to release his reins.

 

_Gods_ . _His self-restraint was only an illusion._

 

He drags out the after-party, staying late, which he usually doesn't do. Yet, he is not drinking excessively. Another thing he doesn't do, either.

 

_It's stalling._

 

He tells himself he is giving her a way out. He tells himself she will not even show up; if she does, she will - she _must -_ get tired of waiting for him, of the humiliation of being kept as a backup plan for the evening. (In reality, she is his only real plan.)

 

It's the thick of the night when he walks towards his room with senses blurred by whiskey and the things he can't tell anyone. His head is so full of her that he initially thinks he is hallucinating when she sees her.

 

Sitting on the ground on the plush red carpet, typing away on her phone.

 

Her angelic face glows in the blue light against the dark corridor. She’s wearing the same outfit she wore this afternoon. Smart casual.

 

_How long has she been waiting here like this?_

 

He stops in his tracks a good thirty feet away.

 

She glances up at him. Her face is blank. If anything, she seems unimpressed.

 

"What are you doing here?” he barks before he can stop himself.

 

A little too rude, even for his standards. Especially considering what he really wanted to ask.

 

_Why have you come back for your ruin, little bird? Why haven't you run for the hills? Can't you see I'm going to destroy you? Was this afternoon not warning enough?_

 

Without even blinking, she states:

 

"You owe me."

 

He stares at her. The audacity. _He likes it._

 

Calmly, he walks to her with his hands in his pockets, studying her like one would when assessing an alleged artifact at a flea market. Trying to figure out the value.

 

But it's all just an act. He knows by now that she is the only find he needs for a lifetime.

 

He’s towering over her now, and she’s staring up at him with her wide doll eyes, still clutching her phone, and its light now illuminates him as well.

 

“Do I, now?” he murmurs, looking down at her.

 

“Yes,” she affirms, unperturbed.

 

“Hm.”

 

It’s a rumble from the chest of a monster who prepares to savor every second of his meal. She doesn’t know this yet, though. It’s the crocodile opening its jaw to snap up the bird sunbathing on its nose.

 

“Get up and inside,” he orders her.

 

She rises, a little inelegantly, as she’s trying to avoid bumping into him when he’s crowding her into the wall. He’s surprised to see how tall she is for a woman. Of course he is. It’s the first time he’s seen her other than sitting or on her knees. She still doesn’t quite reach to his nose, and her body is lithe and athletic.

 

Just his type.

 

He sucks the flesh of his cheek between his teeth, and it’s just enough to keep him grounded when he looks into her eyes. The tips of their shoes are almost touching.

 

Her chest is heaving rapidly. Poor little bird.

 

"Inside," he repeats, and it's almost a sneer.

 

"Right." She rolls the ‘r’ and pops the ‘t.’

 

Her hand is on the handle, and his hovers over the fingerprint reader. They are so close he can smell her shampoo: fresh vervain.

 

"Before we do this…" he rumbles with the last ounce of his conscience, "I'm not a nice man, Rey."

 

"You remember my name," she whispers in genuine surprise.

 

"Rey," he warns again, wanting an answer.

 

She gulps. He can see the movement of her delicate throat. It's frightening how much he wants his hands on that windpipe.

 

"I know," is all she says calmly, gripping the handle with more purpose.

 

"Very well."

 

He places his pointer finger on the reader, and she wrenches open the huge French doors.

 

The suit is pristine. His soul is a mess.

 

She pauses, observing the oil painting of the cheetahs.

 

He takes his place on the sofa, popping the champagne he hasn't touched this afternoon and drinking straight from the bottle.

 

She’s clutching her hand, looking at him expectantly.

 

"Strip."

 

The word drops like a stone in water. She doesn't hesitate.

 

_The champagne was maybe a mistake_ , he muses as the white buttons of her chemise come undone to her collarbone and she pulls the shirt over her head. Her hands stretch, and her flat abdomen flexes with the movement.

 

He takes another swig.

 

_Those hands will get bound._

 

Her bra is plain nude, and he doesn't spare it another second of his attention.

 

"Your pants first." He stops her before she can reveal her breasts.

 

She unhooks her belt, rolls it up, and places it on the table. Then she unbuttons and unzips the garment, shimmying out of it. Kylo almost smiles at how unsexy and efficient her movements are. She is not a seductress. In many ways, she sticks out in his constricted world like a sore thumb.

 

He drinks again, feeling the bubbles prickle on his tongue. He wants to draw her onto his lap, kiss her, make her squirm, just a little. He mentally slaps himself as a reminder that kissing is personal.

 

He doesn't _do_ personal. In every other aspect of his life, he is a commodity.

 

But not here.

 

"Come here," he drones, the alcohol clouding his senses. _I should stop drinking champagne before bed._

 

He pats his thighs, and she climbs over him, steading herself on his shoulder. Her legs spread over his lap, and it’s probably uncomfortable for her; he knows he’s wide, and his spread legs don’t make it any easier for her.

 

She is really, really close this way. He can taste her minty breath, and he spots faint freckles on her skin - a detail he has missed so far. This girl looks so pure.

 

But she can’t entirely _be_ pure, can she? Not after the stunt she allowed him to pull with her this afternoon.

 

“What about your suit?” she asks pointedly. Now that she is settled, her hands come to rest on her thighs. Maybe she reads the room too well, he muses. All in all, he is grateful that she doesn’t try to reach for him - they don’t even have skin-toskin contact.

 

_Yet._

 

He shrugs. “Don’t smear anything on it.”

 

Carelessly, he lifts the champagne bottle to take a swig, then thinks better of it.

 

“Take off your bra.”

 

She reaches behind her back and unclasps the fastening, holding his gaze whileshe slides it off and throws it unceremoniously on the ground. She is _taunting_ him.

 

He breaks the eye contact to assess his findings. Her breasts are round, if not big. His stare is glued to them, like a fucking schoolkid seeing Playboy for the first time.

 

“Take off my tie,” he says, still looking at her nipples rather than her eyes. He feels his cock grow heavy with blood. Her delicate fingers unwind the black material from his neck, and when she is done, he lifts his eyes to observe her.

 

There’s an ounce of nervousness in her, but otherwise, she seems to be fine. Holding her gaze, he slowly slides the long black silk from underneath his collar. It’s all the warning she will get.

 

Her breath hitches. Her hips buck. ( _Oh God._ )

 

With the tie in his hand,he takes a gulp from the bottle, but doesn’t swallow. Carefully, he presses the carafe to her right breast, making her nipple peak against the ice-cold glass. He teases a little, drawing circles on her, enjoying as she quietly gasps and squirms on his lap. ( _The sensation shoots straight to her clit, spanning an invisible string for him to pluck at._ )

 

When he is done, he moves the bottle to the other nipple, then takes the first one between his lips, bathing it in the champagne held inside his mouth. ( _The bubbles prickle her sensitive skin; one wants to relax in the warmth, and the other strains against the cold. She is being torn apart. Her head is spinning, and she grabs his neck for leverage._ )

 

He stiffens, swallows the alcohol, and straightens to look at her.

 

“Hands behind your back, Rey.”

 

The doe eyes widen even more, and now she is a little afraid. ( _She should have known he doesn’t like to be touched. Somehow, she gets it. Everybody claws at him for hours on end._ )

 

“I’m sorry, I…” she stammers.

 

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he interrupts her sternly. She pulls herself together and obeys.

 

He leans forward, sucking the neglected nipple into his mouth while his hands work behind her back to secure her wrists with knots he has never unlearned, no matter how long it’s been since he last used them.

 

The position makes her bow her chest forward, right onto his welcoming tongue. His legs keep hers spread, and she is trapped on top of him.

 

_You're not flying anywhere, little bird._

 

His hands start to explore her body now that he feels safe from her claim. She has been so good with him, and he feels a pang of guilt in his chest. She hasn't really touched him without his permission, not for longer than necessary. He has her bound.

 

Well, he _told_ her he wasn't a nice man, didn't he?

 

His paws cover her back, _almost the entirety of it,_ and his teeth slide down the column of her throat. He _feels_ the intake of her breath, feels his bird’s lungs heave against the cage of his arms.

 

Just out of curiosity, he leans back, placing his hands on her waist to test the span of his fingers. They almost touch, and, because he knows it's only going to hurt her a little, he squeezes until his fingertips connect.

 

She does her best to inhale shallowly, only in her lungs and not her belly. Her hips buck involuntarily.

 

"Do you like this, Rey? Hm? How fragile you are in my hands?”

 

She nods eagerly. ( _She_ loves it _. The pressure makes the invisible string in her clit vibrate, knowing he is in charge of her._ )

 

He growls.

 

_I could swallow you whole, you sweet thing. I could hold you down and make you take it._

 

“Use your words,” he orders her.

 

“Yes,” she chokes out, her face glowing red from the admission. One more press, and he lets go of her. She gulps for air.

 

Unhurriedly, his hand travels lower, gliding over the lace panties. He presses lightly, searching for the taut little bud between her folds. The fabric is wet with her arousal. It sticks to her mound like a second skin, and he can feel _everything._ She moans into her closed lips when he circles her clit lightly.

 

“You’re soaked.” He informs her of the diagnosis, testing how she reacts. When he glances at her expectantly, she averts her eyes, blushing. The fact that she is still able to feel embarrassed makes him grow harder. He wants to _wreck_ her until she can't walk. Corrupt the last ounce of her dignity and fill her up with his greed, instead.

 

“The things I’m going to do to you…” he murmurs, hooking his pointer finger below her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “So desperate, almost naked…”

 

He runs his thumb lazily along her cupid’s bow, then slides it to her lower lip, pulling down, examining her pearly teeth. Then he forces her mouth open, pushing in his thick thumb, meeting her warm, plush tongue. Closing her jaw between his thumb and pointer finger, he pulls it down, looking into her mouth.

 

“I can see your heart where my cock should be,” he says. “In your throat.” He lets up, then pushes in his middle two fingers. “Suck.”

 

She does. It’s almost painful. She wets his digits well, licking themlike she did his cock, and she even has the audacity to moan to it. Her enthusiasm is almost frightening. Not once has he encountered a woman who liked his fucked-up play this quickly and this much. Yet, here she is, and if he doesn’t pay attention, he’ll come in his pants from her blowing his _fingers._

 

Roughly, he wrenches his hand away from her and drags his fingers down towards her sopping wet pussy. He takes his time, witnessing her eyelids grow heavy with need. She watches his hand approach the spot where she needs him most with urging eyes.

 

She must be painfully aroused by now. He can almost _smell her._

 

His other hand slides over her nape, into her hair, and grabs the roots roughly.

 

Now, _now_ she is fully under his control. His doll. _His babydoll_ . _His little bird._

 

His cock strains against his suit as the long-awaited high of control roars in his ears.

 

_It's been so fucking long, little bird. You have no idea how hungry I am for this._

 

“Don’t come on my suit,” is all the warning she gets before he dips his finger into her waistband and then, over the smooth skin of her pussy, parts her folds and pushes inside gradually. She is _sopping,_ but it’s still a tight fit. _His finger._

 

How is he going to stuff his cock in her?

 

Her muscles clench on his finger, and he feels it. She whimpers. Her eyes slide shut while he holds her upright by her hair. ( _Rey is glad for the support. Her body wants to cave on itself._ ) He drags his finger along the front of her walls, then the sides, exploring every crevice, mapping her out. Marking his territory. This pussy will - _must be -_ ruined for everyone else.

 

He lets her enjoy the ride, then jerks her by her hair roughly.

 

“Look at me, Rey,” he says. With difficulty, she does. He doesn’t stop his assault on her pussy, sliding another finger inside and curling them to her G-spot. Her eyes almost cross, but she keeps herself upright. He might be motivating her by pulling her hair harder.

 

“Here is how this is going to work. When it’s too much, you tell me ‘red.’ When you can’t speak, you snap your fingers twice. Understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

( _Gods. She is lost to him already._ )

 

“Good. Repeat.”

 

He pushes down on her G-spot.

 

“Too much - red. Or -- oh _fuckfuck ---_ snapping my… my fingers twice,” she moans atop him.

 

“Good girl.”

 

He increases his pace and pulls her head until she arches in a backbend that can't be comfortable.

 

Her whimpers break somewhere in her throat. Kylo realizes that she is vocal as fuck, which is going to be a problem.

 

He might be a half-god in Hollywood, but he really doesn't need an avalanche that would be started by the loud screams of woman’s pleasure.

 

He does her best to get her _there_ just to be able to justify some good spanking--her peachy ass would look so good with red imprints of his hand--but she isn't as responsive as she should be.

 

That can only mean one thing.

 

He stops abruptly. Pulls out.

 

She huffs out a whine of protest and looks at him like he has just taken the last good muffin at the office party.

 

"Have you taken care of yourself this afternoon?” he inquires with creased brows that foreshadow a storm.

 

Rey doesn't seem impressed, again.

 

"What do you think?” He can hear the eyeroll in her tone.

 

_No_. That bratty attitude won't do. He feels a little thrill for having been handed this perfect excuse.

 

The best part of the four walls is that he doesn't have to be _polite._ That he doesn't have to _behave. Entertain._ He can seek his own pleasure. And right now, he _really_ feels like teaching her some manners.

 

The way she purses her lips and jots her chin - as if daring him to retaliate for her touching herself as she pleases - makes him think that maybe she has picked up on what’s coming.

 

For a moment, it occurs to him that she might not be new to this dynamic at all. That maybe she has had someone else before him. Another man with a rough hand. The thought only makes his intestines twist with possessiveness. Any other time, he would brush it off. But right now, it’s _his_ playtime. So he latches on to the feeling, channeling it.

 

_Come what may._  

 

He grabs her by the waist, lifting her off his legs, then throws her over his shoulder as roughly as if she were his prey. She lets out a surprised yelp.

 

( _With her hands bound behind her back, she is defenseless against him, hanging over his shoulder, blood rushing to her head, watching the carpet’s motifs move by in a blur while he carries her somewhere._ )

 

Instead of spilling her onto the bed, he arranges her neatly, knees on the ground, thighs lined flush against the end of the mattress, her hair fanned out to the left side as she turns her head to the right to lie flat on her stomach.

 

She strains her head to look, but he pushes her back down.

 

“Did I tell you that you could finish yourself off _and_ come back for more?”

 

“No,” she mutters begrudgingly.

 

“You have some nerve, Rey, showing up here at my door when you’ve put me out of my job,” he murmurs in her ear as he leans close.

 

( _Oh fuck. He wanted to do his job._ )

 

She closes her eyes and swallows. Good. Now she gets that she is in bed with a monster.

 

_You thought you had this under control, didn’t you, little bird? How foolish._

 

He fondles her hair, crooning. “But now you’re here… so I guess I just have to make you beg for it.”

 

With that promise, he runs his finger playfully along her Cupid's bow in an outlet of a kiss he denies himself. She shivers.

 

The bed undulates as he lifts his weight off it. He rounds it and admires his handiwork. Her lace panties accentuate the roundness of her ass; ornaments adorn the garment in light coral, as if her own skin were imprinted there.

 

A gift from the universe, just for him. And it’s not going anywhere.

 

_Best to unwrap it._

 

He touches the garment and pushes it down to her knees. Her pink pussy is glistering, teasingly peeking from between her ass cheeks. ( _The room’s air suddenly feels cold against her center, creeping in and prickling her skin. Her pussy clenches from the anticipation; her hands strain against the silk tie._ )

 

Teasingly, he runs a finger along her slit in a feather-light touch. She squirms, chasing after the friction. His other hand stills her, pushing her down by her lower back.

 

“Stay still, Rey, and wait for me silently. You’ll get what you deserve.”

 

With that, he retreats from her to undress. Measuredly, he slips off his suit jacket, draping it over the hanger. No need to waste 6,000 dollars on borrowed clothing that won’t fit him in a month, anyway. Inside, he is brimming with anticipation. He makes himself wait just as much as he does her. He wants to savor this, wants to drag it out as much as he can. It feels like it’s been centuries ago since he had a girl this pliable under his hands.

 

( _Her pussy is getting cold. She wishes she had the courage to beg him to put his palm on it--better yet, his tongue--and warm her. The throb in her clit is galling. She tries in vain to escape and touch herself and waits in exasperation for him to return. He will return, won’t he?_ )

 

His eyes never leave her, watching her subtle squirming. He smirks. That pussy looks delicious, and he can’t wait to pull her onto his cock. But first… first she needs to see who sets the rules here.

 

His cufflinks come off into the velvet box. He unbuttons the first two buttons of his dress shirt, feeling the air get thick. He rolls up his sleeves to his elbows, his cock twitching in his pants expectantly.

 

Telling himself to be calm, he lazily steps up to her waiting ass.

 

( _Her breath hitches as she hears him approach. Premonition hits her. She tries not to panic. She reminds herself that she wanted in. That he gave her the means to back out any time._ I just need to use my words.)

 

He pulls the curtains of her asscheeks apart, taking a good look at her glistering slit. Her smell is intoxicating. It’s sweet and spicy. It’s everything he ever dreamed of.

 

He tells her so. ( _She reddens. No one has talked to her so crudely. No one has wanted her body this much. And no one has had her this vulnerable without knowing anything about her._ )

 

The resistance in her muscles relaxes the more he kneads her ass. Holding her open to him, he drags the flat of his tongue greedily up from her clit to her hole, darting his tongue inside. She whines in surprise.

 

“Fuck, Rey, your taste… love this little pussy. But first, let me teach you some manners.” He takes his time to settle on his knees so his hands can come down square on her ass and he can grab her shoulder if he needs to.

 

The first spank makes her gasp. It’s not even the full extent of what he plans for her.

 

“Tell me why you get this,” he orders her.

 

“For coming to you after I had touched myself,” she whispers rapidly, clearly mortified by voicing it.

 

Again, he bites back a smile. He is wrecking her inch by inch. _His favourite part._

“Good girl. How many spanks, Rey?”

 

( _Her mind is racing. It’s so new, so enthralling. She blurts out the first thing that comes to her mind._ )

 

“Ten.”

 

_Ambitious._ He squeezes her buttocks with force, his other hand holding her still to take it. His bloodthirst is through the roof. He wants her to beg for his cock. To have her pleasure at his mercy. Then, he would give her what she wants.

 

“Okay,” he hums. “Count.”

 

He aims for the puffiest part of her behind. She is thin, thinner than he usually likes his girls, and he doesn’t want her to hurt her and make her back out prematurely. Not before he has made her too desperate for self-respect.

 

“One,” she sobs.

 

“That’s it. Keep quiet, Rey, or I’ll start over.”

 

_Smack._

 

She whines into her closed mouth when his splayed fingers connect with her flesh. The red mark of his fingers glows on her like a brand. This girl is his. He knows it.

 

“Two,” she grits out. Before she can close her lips, the next one comes down.

 

She cries out.

 

“I said, quiet,” he hisses and tugs her hair. “From the top.”

 

(Fuck him, fuck him _, she seethes. Yet when his hand hits her again, her cunt gushes and her toes curl; that’s how bad she wants this. To be handled at his pleasure. To be his plaything. To let go of thinking. To just_ feel _._ )

 

He takes her to four before pushing in two of his fingers roughly, testing her self-resolve. She holds her ground, turning her head to moan into the mattress. Then he smacks her again, and her back strains as she lifts her head to speak.

 

“Five,” she pants. His cock reels. The next is aimed at the juncture of her ass and thigh: “ _Six,”_ she groans, and his other hand is in her cunt, pumping her while “ _Seven”_ and “ _Eight, oh God, oh God,”_ roll around. His hair falls in his face, his muscles strain, and he starts to sweat under his dress shirt.

 

The ones which are the most exhausting to have are the sweetest.

 

She has found a way to cheat him by suffocating her yells into the mattress, so he lets go of her cunt and pulls her by her hair. She can’t hide now.

 

“Quiet, Rey,” he reminds her sternly, in the thick of it.

 

_“Nine,”_ she sobs as he hits her hard. ( _She thinks she might explode under his hands. Her whole world is a haze except for the razor sharp sting of his hand on her ass. Sometimes it grazes her pussy, and she wonders if he would slap her there, too. She_ wishes _he would._ )

 

Momentarily, he dips his fingers inside again, stuffing her with two of his fingers, scissoring her. Her sounds are inhuman behind her closed lips, and he fears she might red out.

 

But she doesn’t.

 

_Smack._

 

“T-ten.”

 

He lets go of her abruptly, her head bouncing on the bed. Her ass and the upper part of her thighs are glowing red, his palm prints overlayed to form one continuous sheen of blood-filled area.

 

He is out of breath. His cock is so hard it frightens him.

 

“Good girl,” he pants and slicks back his hair, trying to regain his composure. He doesn’t know who is in charge anymore. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and he has a hard time swallowing. As he comes back to himself, he sees how riled up she is.

 

“You need to ask for what you want, Rey,” he baits her.

 

( _She screws her eyes shut. She can’t say it aloud, can she? She wants him to_ let her come _. Just once. Just once would be enough._ )

 

“Please,” she whispers.

 

“Please, what?” Gods, it’s so fun to drive her to the edge over and over again.

 

“Please… I need to…”

 

“What?”

 

( _If he lets her go she will bitch-slap that Greek god face of his. Leave her fingerprints on his skin for once._ )

 

“Just… touch me there… please?”

 

He wants her so desperately she would let explicit begs flow out of her beautiful lips.

 

“Here?” he asks, gently pressing a kiss to the hot flesh of her ass, on the top of the globe. Not nearly close enough to where he wants his tongue, but he only does what she asks for.

 

“Lower,” she whispers.

 

He kisses her thigh. _When has he become so soft?_ He bites a little.

 

"Ah," she gasps, jerking at the pain. He has overworked her, that's for sure. "Not quite… to the left."

 

This would go on forever this way.

 

He pulls back. Time to try a different approach.

 

"Get off the bed, Rey."

 

She shifts her weight to sit on her heels.

 

"Turn around."

 

Shuffling awkwardly with her hands bound behind her back, she does, facing him. ( _From this low, he really is a larger-than-life, otherworldly creature. His warm brown eyes stare down at her, his hands woven in front of his chest. His wide forearms are revealed by his white dress shirt. She admires the veins running over them. The imprints of his hands are a painful reminder of his power over her. She loves this. Loves surrendering herself to him._ )

 

"Open your legs," he instructs her calmly.

 

She slides her legs further apart. He hums pensively.

 

"You can be a good girl when you have to be silent," he observes. Then he turns around, strides to the table, and starts to undress completely. His shirt comes off first, joining the suit jacket on the hanger. He lets his belt whip a little when he pulls it out.

 

"Seems like we might need to change the approach, Rey."

 

( _Her skin pebbles. Her attention zeroes on the belt. She is not sure she can take another round of punishment._ )

 

Kylo picks up on her disturbance as he drapes the leather belt neatly on the back of a chair.

 

"Speak your mind, Rey. Use your fucking _words_! For a journalist, you sure as hell don't often know what to say."

 

That does the trick.

 

"Don't hit me with that, please," she says sternly.

 

Kylo hums appreciatively. Usually, he doesn't allow for requests of his partners mid-play, but Rey didn't have time to lay out her red flags. He lets this slide.

 

"I won't," he promises. He finishes undressing. When he hangs the suit pants, he looks at her playfully. "You did a good job preserving my pants."

 

Her face lights up of its own accord. ( _She feels_ proud. Of a blowjob. Of following his commands _. Gods, who is this woman in her? But when he pushes down his black briefs, that smile freezes. Although it's been in her mouth,_ seeing _how well endowed he is makes her feel all sorts of things._ )

 

He smirks, entirely too satisfied, thinking that if this acting thing doesn’t turn out to be successful after all, he really is going to consider doing porn.

 

"You want this, Rey?" he asks coyly, palming his shaft lazily.

 

Her throat undulates as she swallows thickly.

 

She looks hungry. Desperate. Just as he wants her.

 

"New rule: you're only allowed to talk when you are ready to beg for my cock. Understand?”

 

Rey nods.

 

"Good."

 

When he starts to walk to her, he grabs the leather belt, letting it slide on the ground.

 

( _He approaches like Lucifer himself, deigning to take his sacrificial lamb and swallow it whole. Ready to ruin her to the point of no return. His defined abs shift as he walks, his cock hitting his navel. Destiny incarnate._ )

 

Her eyes are glued to the belt, staring at it with suspicion. Her mistrust wounds his soul on a fundamental level. He purses his lips to control the rage that brews in him.

 

"Look at me, Rey," he bellows. Her eyes reluctantly slide to his. "I said I won't hit you. Don't question my promise."

 

She nods curtly.

 

He stops in front of her. He can see that she needs reassurance, and it’s his job to give it to her. He told her he wasn’t a nice man, but those doe eyes might make him into one, after all. Gently, he runs his finger along her face. So beautiful. So fresh. So fragile.

 

“You’re doing great, baby,” he murmurs. _Baby. Really, Kylo? Calling her pet names? What’s your next move, big boy? Marry her, or what?_

 

She nuzzles his palm.

 

_You know what? Maybe I might._

 

Just to distract himself, he lifts her off the ground, quickly releasing her hands from their confinement. ( _It's painful to switch position. Her shoulders squeak, and her wrists are braceleted with red imprints. But she feels_ cherished _. He is so close, his body heat radiating onto her back, and she can feel his erection poking her ass._ )

 

It's the most intimate position they have ever been in - they’re both naked, and she isn't even restrained for the moment. He should panic. There is a reason he likes his partners tied up. He likes to have control over his body, which he rarely gets. People touch him without his permission all the time.

 

Yet, with Rey, he doesn't fear any of this. She is obedient of her own accord.

 

“Purse your lips, Rey,” he croons in her ear, and when she does, he covers her mouth with the widest part of the black fabric. He fastens it over her head neatly.

 

"It's just a reminder," he says and kisses her neck.

 

( _She shivers. His moods change like the spring weather. The gentle peck just now is such a juxtaposition against his harsh spanking. Her senses are on hyperdrive._ )

 

He turns her around.

 

"Your hands."

 

She obediently extends both of her wrists for him to bind them. He wraps the belt around them. The leather is fine enough not to cause unnecessary pain. He admires as the black snake of his belt loops around her delicate bones.

 

Stepping back, he takes her in. Her arms frame her breasts. The nipples protrude, practically begging to be played with. She is not entirely helpless, but it's enough for him right now. A full-blown gag would have been a touch too forward at this point. He is determined to get what he wants. He wants her to beg for him to fuck her.

 

"You have no idea how edible you look like this," he murmurs.

 

She squirms.

 

"Come,” he says and leads her by the excess of the belt to the bed. He pushes her down to sit, then to lay down. By her bound hands, he pulls her to the headboard, tucking the leather under the mattress. It's only a reminder, but he glares at her so she knows to keep her hands where they are.

 

He straddles her in a swing, rubbing his cock between her tits. He has to squeeze them together to make this happen. They don't fill his palms, not even halfway, and his cock looks even larger than it already is gliding between them.

 

He tweaks her nipples, and she groans into the gag.

 

"That's it, now you can scream," he croons hoarsely, moving down and licking them until they’re flushed red. His hand rubs between her legs languidly, getting her ready for what's about to come.

 

He slides down further and pushes her legs apart. Too bad he cannot bind them. How pretty her ankles would look, her helpless body underneath him, ready to receive… _fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

He parts her like a book and licks right along the center. ( _Her eyes roll back in her head, and she cants her hips to urge him to do it again. Her nerves are on fire, and her muscles scream for release. If she has been aroused like this before, she cannot remember. He is a beast, pushing all her secret buttons, tying her up well and silencing her._ )

 

She has showered, and he smells vanilla on her skin. He imagines smearing her cunt with vanilla ice so he could eat it from it, making her clit raw with his mouth.

 

He pushes in a finger, and she quivers. Maybe she yelps, or moans, he doesn't know, because the sounds are suffocated into an inhuman whine.

 

"Jesus fuck, Rey, you're my new favorite plaything," he groans. He is an animal. Calling her his plaything.

 

But she only gets wetter at this.

 

He huffs and begins to bring her closer to an orgasm.

 

( _She stares at the colorful fireworks behind her eyelids that erupt while he nips and suck at her pussy like the last minibar snack on a hungover morning. Her nails dig into the belt for support as she tries not to yank her hands from above her head. She is so fucking close,_ bloody hell, just a little bit more _…)_

 

He slaps her pussy.

 

( _What the hell??_ )

 

She glares daggers at him. It's lost on him how she can be so fucking _cute_ and _menacing_ at the same time. She is bound. She is gagged. Yet… yet he knows she is not a songbird. She is a bird of prey. A kestrel.

 

_My bird slurps blood for breakfast._

 

He smirks at her. The little spitfire.

 

"You just have to say the word, Rey, and I'll let you come."

 

She puts her head back down. ( _No fucking way. He owes her. It's her due._ )

 

_Stubborn._

 

He reels. Her personality plays right into his hands. His tongue glides over heragain in alternating strokes, spelling his name on her slick folds. She seems to respond particularly to the ‘Y,’ when he grazes her clit twice in a downward stroke and then cleans up her juices in an upward one. The ‘O’ goes on a loop.

 

Her body thrashes in his hands. Her little whines are high-pitched and short.

 

( _Rey thinks her spine is going to break under the pressure that's building in the wake of his slick tongue. He opens her up like no lover ever has; he owns her, plays her. Makes her go mad. His previous stunt has left her on edge. But this time…_ )

 

He pulls away. Leans back on his soles.

 

( _She opens her unfocused eyes to look at him. She is in_ pain _._ _Doesn't he get it that she fucking_ needs _to_ come _? Her gaze travels to his cock. She would actually prefer if he could make her come with his tongue once before he fucks her boneless, but she is not the one making demands here. His cock would do. It's a beautiful piece. Heavy, thick. Veiny._ Gods, I'm so lewd _._ )

 

He arches an eyebrow, and she glares at the ceiling in response.

 

_No begging, then._

 

He shrugs and dives back in. He knows he can keep her on the edge for hours. Until sunrise. Until his manager knocks on the door to fetch him for his flight.

 

( _Rey’s eyes prickle in frustration when he oh so gently starts to nip her labia. She shudders and squirms as best as he allows her. His hands are like iron around her thighs. Hell. Her whole thigh is thinner than his arms. When his tongue starts to lap again at her clit and he pinches her ass cheek to keep her grounded, she knows she has lost this fight. She needs to come, goddammit!_ )

 

She tries to dance out of his reach, and he yanks her back to his mouth. When she does it again, he reluctantly lifts his head.

 

She is staring at him with pleading eyes.

 

"Ready to beg?”

 

He doesn't wait for her to nod. He slips off the tie, and the dam breaks. The words spill out of her in a single waterfall.

 

She chants an incessant mantra of “ _fuck me please fuck me please fuck me let me come please fuck me please.”_

 

The intensity is frightening. He’llneed to make it up to her.

 

"That's my girl."

 

He doesn't waste time before flipping her onto her stomach. She is not even a weight he really feels. He pumps her with two fingers while he reaches to the bedside table, pulling out a condom and wrapping it on.

 

The belt comes loose from beneath the mattress as he drags her ass in the air and parts her legs to accommodate his body. Her pussy is waiting. Before he stuffs her full of his cock, he can see it clench on nothing. _Hungry. My kestrel is hungry for meat._

 

( _She moans softly as he impales her on his shaft. With the tie gone from her mouth, she turns her head and bites her arm to silence herself. The stretch is a benediction. Especially when he bottoms out._ Gods. Saints in heaven. Holy spirit. _She can feel him at her cervix._ )

 

He groans.

 

"Rey…" he grits out. "Your pussy… _fff-huk._ "

 

He is riled up. Hasn't realized how much he has hungered himself. He grips his cock firmly, willing himself not to come. Gets used to her.

 

Then moves.

 

He swings his hips full force. She jolts and arches her back deeper. Widens her stance so he can pummel into her harder.

 

_Filthy little thing._

 

He fucks her hard. She _sobs._ She fucking _sobs,_ contentedly.

 

"You have been… hungry for this, haven't you, Rey?" he presses out through his teeth. He fears it got swallowed amid the sounds of wet slap of skin on skin.

 

"Yes," she whispers, careful not to be too loud. Or maybe it's the impact of his thrust that knock the air out of her lungs; he doesn't know. Might be a coincidence.

 

He stops. Winds her hair around his fingers. Pulls. Pulls until she is staring at him, her neck almost breaking.

 

"How does it feel to be a good girl?”

 

Her lips part. Her eyes are glassy. They draw him magnetically.

 

"Good, so good," she chokes out.

 

He starts a brutal pace on her. Her bound hands hang on her stomach. He loops his free hand around her, parting her folds and finding her clit.

 

_“Oh God, oh God,”_ is all she can muster.

 

"God isn't fucking you like this, Rey," he says. His hips slap her ass. Her finger circles her clit. And she might be having trouble breathing. "Tell me who is fucking you, Rey. Say my name."

 

He looks at her face, the eyes that are closed, her lips that hang open uselessly, revealing her white, pearly teeth. Her cheeks are red. She glows.

 

( _She has ascended. The drought broken by the rainy season. She is flying._ )

 

"Kylo…" she whispers.

 

Then cums.

 

He lets go of her hair and claps his hand over her mouth while she convulses.

 

( _His arms hold her upright; his body envelops her all around. It's safe. It's all-encompassing. She lets go, screaming into his palm. Her orgasm falls on her like water on a wildfire. It almost breaks her in two._ )

 

His lips bump against his own fingers.

 

_He almost kissed her._

 

The realization makes him fuck her even harder. He holds her still, making her endure his pulverizing thrusts. She moans beneath his hand. Her brows crease, and she opens her eyes.

 

_They’re green_ , he thinks and stares at them stupefied while he comes in the condom, wedging her cock deep inside her.

 

( _He is unhinged. His black hair falls in his face while she stares into his soul_.)

 

Her eyelids slide shut. She looks satisfied.

 

He lets go of her, and she spills onto the bed. In a daze, he pulls out and takes care of the condom. When he steps out of the bathroom, the sight of her hits him.

 

She is reduced to a heap of flesh. Used. Exhausted. Her body is covered in various shades of red.

 

Her hands are still bound, but she doesn't seem to mind as she gulps for air. Her hair is a haystack.

 

He is staring at her, and he knows he should herd her out and say goodbye.

 

_Her eyes are green._ It shoots through him.

 

"Fuck it," he mutters. Steps to the bed, releases her hands. She barely stirs.

 

"Rey." He calls her name, somewhat afraid. He really doesn't need a body in his wake.

 

"Hm?” she hums.

 

_Thank God._

 

He is really, intently staring at her, not really believing what he is about to do.

 

He scoops her up gently. She is limp.

 

He carries her to the bathroom, starts the water, and places her in the bathtub.

 

He spends the next thirty minutes massaging and washing her in silence, avoiding her increasingly inquisitive stares.

 

When he is done, he puts her to bed.

 

"Kylo…" she calls after him as he goes to clean up himself.

 

"Hm?”

 

"You know…You really did."

 

"What?”

 

"Do your job,” she jokes.

 

His lips twitch in an abandoned smile. He shakes his head.

 

Kestrel.

 

_You know what? I might._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing andabatae who got this monster in shape in mere hours. Go and check out her works!!
> 
> To my lovely readers: you have no idea how giddy your comments made me!! I have never expected for this to have such a big bang and I am honored you liked this little filth that I threw at you.
> 
> Please let me know how you liked this chapter!! I *very tenatively* say that I might add another little something if you wish! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments or find me on Twitter/Tumblr/the writing den.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so blown away by your reactions. 
> 
> I have an important interview tomorrow so I'll get around to answering all comments soon!! But until then: thank you so much!!
> 
> UPDATE: I got my DREAM job. I think that your lovely comments and the great energy that I get from those are responsible for this. :D just to let you know: your comments keep this fic going. Thank you so much!!
> 
> as usual, mind the updated tags! anal fingering and DP for this one.

The grapes pop under her teeth with a satisfying crunch. The flesh is sweet and the skin a little sour. It makes her tongue stick to the roof of mouth. She reaches for another piece without looking. 

 

_ Pop. Crunch. Chew. _

 

Unblinking, she is staring at him.

 

She is sitting again on the ottoman, twisted in a pretzel with an arm thrown over her crossed legs. 

 

He is stretching out on the couch the best he can, lying on his stomach. His arm is tucked under his head, his bulging bicep concealing half of his face. The luscious dark hair looks ruffled just the right way. One of his legs, bent and tucked under the other one, is hanging from the sofa, the knee almost touching the ground. 

 

He has a white shirt and black pajama trousers on. The rest is hidden under the blanket.

 

Even asleep, he looks uncomfortable. His brows are creased. His ribs heave a little too rapidly for a good rest.

 

She plucks another grape and munches on it. 

 

Her brain is still refusing to understand what she has woken up to.

 

He actually went there and slept on the couch.

 

After all this.

 

She knows how his dick feels like in two of her orifices. She knows that he grits his teeth before he cums. He ate her out. 

 

And he went there and slept. On the couch.

 

_ Pop. Crunch. Chew. _

 

She blinks for the first time in minutes. He stirs.

 

She extracts the whole bunch of grapes from the fruit basket, holding onto it like he would take it away from her once he wakes.

 

She chews faster. 

 

A hamster, really.

 

She feels an urge to stuff her face full of these fruits until she turns into a puffer fish.

 

Then stare at him innocently if he misses his grapes.

 

He groans. Tries to arrange himself better. Fails. The couch is just too small. 

 

She observes his struggle, popping the grapes as popcorn. A true movie star, this one. Captivating even in his state of awkwardness.

 

When he gives up finding a more comfortable position, he blinks his eyes open with a supremely annoyed  _ fuck. _

 

_ Pop. Crunch. Chew. _

 

The beast is awake.

 

"What are you doing here?” he groans.

 

_ Hello to you, too. _

 

"I want my interview," she declares brazenly.

 

He screws his eyes shut and pinches his nose.

 

"Jesus Christ. You truly  _ are _ a journalist." 

 

"You could have slept in the bed, you know," she remarks around a new grape.

 

"You haven't consented to that." (He doesn't do personal.)

 

_ How thoughtful. _

 

He grunts when he tilts himself upright. He presses a hand to his temple.

 

"Hungover?” she chirps.

 

He glares at her.

 

"Will you shut up for a second?” 

 

She blinks at him, unimpressed. Chews.

 

"Please?” he adds a little reluctantly.

 

_ Pop. Crunch. Chew. _

 

Silence.

 

He looks around the room, visibly disoriented.

 

"What time is it?”

 

"No idea," she promptly answers.

 

"Great." He inhales. Throws off the blanket. Peels himself off the couch with a pained expression. 

 

She follows him with her eyes as he stands. He is so darn tall. Huge.  _ Massive. _

 

She wants to go at it again. Feel him fill her up again. Stuff her full until she can't walk.

 

_ Pop. Crunch. Chew. _

 

Without sparing her a glance, he goes to retrieve his phone from a dresser and verifies that his Breitling is still intact and running. Checks his messages. Types for a few seconds.

 

"It's 8:09," he informs her, unprompted.

 

She doesn't answer.  _ This man is so strange _ .

 

_ Pop. Crunch. Chew. _

 

He staggers to the hotel phone. Dials.

 

"Hi. I'd like to have a full continental breakfast. And one English breakfast. Make it generous. I'm starving. How much time? Okay. Thank you. Bye."

 

He hangs up.

 

Goes in the bathroom and closes the door. 

 

The grapes are gone. But her confusion is back full force. 

 

Has he just ordered her breakfast? Not that she would oppose. She still could eat something. Always so hungry. Her attention wanders to the oil painting of the cheetahs, admiring the artwork. It's a nice touch to the room.

 

She locks eyes with the animal lazily stretching below the other.

 

She doesn't feel like she should go. She truly does want that interview. If she goes back with that usual canned whatever that he promised her, her job will be nothing but a sweet memory.

 

The toilet flushes. Apparently not even the super rich have soundproof bathrooms. 

 

He opens the door, sticks his head into the room.

 

He looks borderline bored when looks at her.

 

"I'd like to fuck you again under the shower before breakfast.  _ Please _ ." 

 

_ A meeting of minds. _

 

Her feet straighten of their own accord. She stands and slips off the fluffy hotel-issue bathrobe.

 

"Will you let me do my job after that?”

 

He huffs in disbelief. Like it was just over the top.

 

"I fuck you. I feed you. Then you also want me to consent to an hour of cross-examination?"

 

"Something like that." She nods.

 

"You fucking kestrel," he mumbles under his breath. (She makes him work. Earn that pussy.)

 

"Get in here, Rey," he orders her. (She walks to him like a gazelle. Her hips sway. Her breasts jiggle. His half-hard cock stirs in interest. The predator ready to hunt.)

 

She does her best to stay cool. He seems to like that. He looks at her, his huge body blocking the doorway, with a smolder in his eyes that betrays his carelessness.

 

She stops a hairsbreadth away from him, tilting her head to stare up at him.

 

(He wants to kiss her so badly again. Kiss away that bratty attitude of hers, show her who's boss here.)

 

The air between them vibrates with static energy.

 

He steps aside. She enters the room. Glances at him over her shoulder in question.

 

"Hands on the sink, legs apart. Eyes on the mirror."

 

She obeys and watches him appear behind her. Their eyes meet in the reflection. Those dark dots could ignite an ocean. She is but a puddle. 

 

He pulls off his shirt and throws it on the ground. She lets her eyes trail over his exposed skin. He is  _ sin _ . The wide shoulders. The tree-trunk upper body. She must be dripping already.

 

He molds himself around her, hands travelling on her arms, breasts. He pushes her forward, making her nipples connect with the cold porcelain. She hisses and feels him steady her by a hand on her lower back.

 

"Watch yourself," he breathes on her ear and carefully slips a finger inside. 

 

She sees her own face glow up.  _ She is beautiful. _

 

But it's hard to keep looking. It makes her uncomfortable. She wants to close her eyes. Instead of herself, she focuses on him.

 

"Watch yourself," he commands and grabs her jaw firmly, directing her head to stare at herself.

 

She does.

 

As he works her, her skin flushes, and she gasps. 

 

"Do you see how gorgeous you are, Rey? How desperate you are for the pleasure I can give you?”

 

”Yes.” She watches herself speak.

 

"Look at that woman in the mirror, Rey. Look at her. She is  _ mine _ . This side of yours is  _ mine _ ."

 

It's not even a lie. This memory will forever be his. He can take it home or discard it. Whatever he wants.

 

She knows that she will never forget the feeling of his teeth as they dig into her neck. The cheetah is biting down on the gazelle's neck. Claiming its prey. Paralyzing her.

 

His finger is joined by another while he attentively ogles her reaction. He keeps her mouth shut with sheer force and she whimpers, blowing bubbles of saliva. Her nostrils flare. She has a front row to her own demise. 

 

Her skin glows. Her eyes sparkle. And he is looming over her, a dark shadow, corrupting her inch by inch.

 

(He is a patient man. He pumps her measuredly, watching her as her resistance against her own blinding beauty dissolves in the radiation of her pleasure. He takes this slow. He is not a 20-something bachelor anymore. He is 35 and few hours of fitful sleep after a long day and an exhausting fucking take a toll on him. But he wanted to have her once again on his cock. His sweet little thing. She is whimpering softly, rocking back against his hand.)

 

"You're fucking yourself on my fingers, Rey," he croons.

 

Her cheeks bloom a deep pink as he calls her out. She stills her motions, but he keeps pumping her.

 

She sees as his lips part in the ghost of a predatory smile behind her. He looks amused. Dangerous.

 

She remembers that he called her his plaything. She can see now what that means. She can't resist, no matter how far he is pushing her boundaries.

 

His hand leaves her jaw to slide down the column of her throat. Nothing more than a feather-light touch. Her skin still prickles at the dread and excitement.

 

( _ Gods,  _ he wants to squeeze it just a little. Just a tiny bit. But she is not ready for this. Not yet, and if they won't meet again he will never feel her racing pulse under his fingers. The desperation in her eyes is good enough for him. For now.)

 

She licks her lips. Her saliva is thick and offers no release. She needs him to fuck her. Needs him to take this to completion. But she can't bring herself to beg when she would see her own face.

 

"Want a shower?” 

 

She nods eagerly.

 

He slaps her ass. It's a warning that makes her jolt.

 

"Words, Rey!”

 

"Yes!” she shouts.

 

(She could really be a little more quiet, this one. She obviously has problems with verbal confirmation. He would take care of that issue, but they don't have time. Breakfast will be here soon and he wants her to cum and then he wants to fill her pussy with  _ his _ cum.  _ Or rather the condom.  _ He doesn't do unplanned pregnancy or STDs, either.)

 

From the edge of her vision, she sees him reach for one of the mini towels used for drying hands. He rolls it up neatly in a little square.

 

"Open up your mouth."

 

She does. Wide. It's his kind of mercy, that she doesn't have to beg for him like yesterday. She just dreads what he takes in return.

 

"If it's too much, slam the tile twice and I'll stop. But Rey… I have given you a huge benefit. You know that, right?"

 

His soft but firm words are a caress that send chills down her spine. In reality, they only touch her in her cunt. She shivers and nods until her head spins.

 

He chuckles. (She is such a brat. So raw. So eager to please.) Puts his hand on her head to still her.

 

"Easy, Rey. Now get in the shower. Don't pull yourself from my fingers."

 

His digits slide in her agonizingly slowly. (With the other, he digs in his bag for two condoms.)

 

She turns and starts putting one foot after the other. Not more elegant than a newborn gazelle, really. He doesn't make it easier for her, either. 

 

He resumes teasing her, fingers hooked in her, until the shower door opens up and she steps inside.

 

She is staring at the mosaics, trying to count the various shades of cream. Her head is pounding with blood as he does god knows what in her that illuminates crevices she didn’t know existed. Her hand plants on the wall to steady herself while she pants under his hands.

 

“I’m very satisfied with you, Rey,” she hears him speak. Again, his tone is warm, enveloping her in a cocoon that she doesn’t want to leave. The gazelle must be in the state of bloodloss where the delirium kicks in. The cheetah just waits with the sharp teeth locked in the muscles. Waits for her to relax underneath him to drag her limp body wherever he wants it. 

 

After one last swipe inside her, he removes his hand.

 

“Grab your ass cheeks and pull them apart for me, Rey.” 

 

She tenses. Her hand peels off the mosaics, and for a moment she thinks she is going to slam the tiles twice. Then she takes a steadying inhale. 

 

(He waits with bated breath for her to do it. Her hands tremble a little in the air as she grabs her round bottoms and pulls. His cock strains against his loose pajama pants as her holes become visible to him. The tips of her fingers are pale from the pressure.  _ Fuck. _ He swallows, trying to get his head back under control. Reaching above her, he places the condoms in the soap holder with care. Then he grabs the shower head and starts the water, mindful not to spill cold drops on her. When it’s warm enough, he places the showerhead back on the rail.) 

 

The water is gently falling on her back. The drops merge into a small river that runs over her neck, down her breasts. The temperature is comforting. Her body relaxes into the pose. She learns to breathe through her nose in long, calm breaths. 

 

“Comfortable?” 

 

She nods. 

 

“Good. Remember. Tile twice. Any problem.”

 

She hums and bobs her head again. The towel is molding to her mouth as it soaks up the saliva. The first touch of something cold makes her jolt a little. 

 

“I’m going to wash you properly before I get you filthy,” he informs her with a playful intonation. 

 

She closes her eyes. His hands rake all over her body, leaving no trace unattended to. The soap allows him to glide his paws effortlessly. He gingerly arranges her hair, then runs his thumbs along her spine from her neck down to her tailbone. Back up. Kneads her shoulders. Her neck. Slides to her waistline, following the slight curve of her body. She doesn’t really have that hourglass figure people nowadays admire so much, but when he squeezes again, she know she likes what he sees. The breasts are washed and teased until she starts rocking back against him and he has to make her stop with a hand on her spine. 

 

(He crouches to wash her legs and to take a good look at her pussy and asshole. Precum leaks from his cock while he parts her folds and washes her where she needs some cleaning. He cleans her clit with extra care. Her legs tremble. Her lower abdomen undulates as her muscles react to him. She is slippery now, covered entirely in the hotel soap. The glass cubicle is sultry with its flowery scent. When he washes himself, he has to use every ounce of willpower to stop himself from jerking off. He still pumps his shaft a few times with force to take the edge off. This girl is killing him. He is losing his god-damned mind; with every inch he takes from her, she takes one right from him.)

 

Her head is getting heavy with blood, and she does her best to lift it up while maintaining the position. Her glutes stretch. Her back strains.  _ I should do more yoga.  _ Not that it would help the throb in her clit. 

 

(He unhooks the shower head. Sets it to jet. Washes her off like a car, starting from her neck. Down her back. To her ass. To her clit.)

 

The stream is hitting her with unrelenting force. She moans into the towel loudly, taken by surprise. Her hands tighten on her own flesh. 

 

“That’s it, baby, keep your hands where they are.”

 

_ He called me baby again. _

 

(He palms his cock as he teases her again, dragging the stream up and down, occasionally hitting her hole. Getting her warmed up.) 

 

The bastard stops just as abruptly as he started. She flares her nostrils to get in as much air as possible, while the water starts falling on her back gently from above again . 

 

“Rey. I’m going to set a new rule here. You may only come if my finger is in your ass.”

 

She screws her eyes shut.

 

_ Gods. I knew it.  _

 

She dreads it. She has never done this before, and his fingers are so thick.

 

“Do you understand?” he asks with weight. 

 

She nods. 

 

“Show me your red sign.”

 

Her right hand slaps the tile twice. Then returns to its position.

 

Vaguely, she is aware that he is ruining her. Piece by piece. Word by word. Yet she can’t stop it. 

 

She doesn’t want to. 

 

“Good girl.” (He  _ sees _ her pussy clench at the praise. He thinks his resolve is going to snap and he will throw the plan of anal fingering out the window and fuck her straight. He resists. Her uncontrolled whines will be his reward soon. He squirts some wash gel onto his hands and rubs it between his palms before starting to warm her up for the fingering.) 

 

His hands start to glide between her ass cheeks alternatingly. The side of his long palm up, then down. She is surprised to discover that she likes it. The speed and pressure increases. In no time, she catches herself chasing after it. 

 

(He  _ knew _ his girl would like this, he gloats. She is already desperate for more. Thus, he removes one of his hands and starts to circle her anus at varying distances. His free hand reaches for a condom. He stills while he rolls it on. A glance at her glistening, puffed slit is enough to confirm that he doesn’t have to inform her about his arrival.) 

 

His dick hits home. It stretches her, and she feels so  _ full,  _ so at  _ limits. _ Her guttural groan is swallowed up by the towel in her mouth. 

 

He returns to the circular motions while he clasps a hand over her shoulder and starts impaling her on his cock. One stroke at a time. Slowly. 

 

The skin and area of her ass is opening new windows for her. She actually  _ wants _ something inside. 

 

The water stream comes from above her head to her ass. Her heartbeat picks up as the soap is washed off. 

 

Foil tears. 

 

“Relax, Rey. Remember the red sign.” 

 

(His finger comes back, teasing the puckered hole with the lubricated condom. He hopes to god this will be enough. It’s a little like Russian roulette. When he feels her cunt relax into his slow thrusts, he mutters a prayer and pushes in the tip of his pointer finger.) 

 

She gasps into the gag and her whole body jolts. Her eyes fly open. The sensation is  _ foreign _ to say the least. His finger is splitting her in a place she has never experienced. Her pussy is full of him, as he insistently keeps hitting her soft spot. 

 

(She clenches on him _hard._ He grits his teeth until they crackle softly. He _must_ _not_ come. Not yet.)

 

“Breathe, Rey. Relax. I’ll make you feel good. Now push a little.”

 

Her brows crease.

 

_ Push?  _

 

The penny drops.

 

_ Oh. _

 

She does. The pain subsides.

 

She closes her eyes and focuses on his voice as he keeps blabbering nonsense to her about how amazing she is doing, how he wants to make her come and how she may if she wants to. 

 

But if she knows how to wait, she will literally turn into the next Hubble telescope and see galaxies. 

 

She wants that. Wants to see the Milky Way in broad daylight. 

 

(Her muscles relax around his finger just enough for him to know she is ready.)

 

He stuffs more of his digit in her. She doesn't know how porn stars can take an entire dick in there; it's already a lot. Her arousal is kept at bay by what he does in her ass, and the unpleasant sensations are dampened by the heavenly stretch of his cock in her pussy. He knows how to keep her on edge. How to give her just a fraction more than she can handle.

 

(He grabs her shoulder with his free hand, pulling her onto his cock, and starts to bend his finger towards her vagina.)

 

She screams. Her vision whites out. It's an atomic explosion. The pleasure is liquifying. She swears she feels his finger touch his dick through the wall of her insides. 

 

Then he moves. Out. In. Out. 

 

His cock moves just in the opposite rhythm. He fills her one hole at a time, until his pace picks up and it merges into one, single, continuous  _ fucking. _

 

Her head is swimming. It's so much she doesn't think she can even come. She is drooling in her gag, making an inhuman noise.

 

“That’s it, Rey, that’s it.” 

 

(He slams into her with abandon, watching his cock disappear into her waiting pussy. His finger now goes all the way in, and every time he hits the right spot in her, her cunt clenches on him. Her knees buckle under the weight of the sensation, which makes her fall on his shaft more. His thoughts are mush. There is no use in trying to come up with something coherent right now, except for the  _ awe _ that fills him. She satisfies him more than anyone in a long time. Not just her body, but her brave submission.  _ It's been so long, my bird, so long… but it was worth waiting for you. _ )

 

She wants to come.  _ Needs _ to come. She whines her pleas uselessly into the towel in her mouth. He is fingering her relentlessly, while his cock parts her. Her clit throbs. She feels she won't come until he touches it. She can't. 

 

(He grits his teeth as he feels that no matter what, he won't last much longer. He won't ridicule himself by coming faster than his plaything. No.)

 

He pushes her forward, until her head connects with the wall. Frees his hand from her shoulder and with a rough motion, starts rubbing her taut little bud.

 

"Come, Rey, come. Let go."

 

He circles her, pushing up the hood. A few more thrusts, and now he  _ prays _ for her to finish. 

 

On the edge of her consciousness, she feels his otherwise purposeful movements turn erratic. 

 

Before it can register how much she has ruined him, her orgasm hits her from different origins all at once.

 

An ocean wave is not nearly as powerful as it is. She doesn't even recognize her own voice; a guttural whine and she screams her pleasure in the gag.

 

(She comes. And comes. And comes. The coil unwinds. It's otherworldly. He empties into the condom, pushing his cock as deep as it goes, fucking her with his finger in her ass and rubbing her, for the sole selfish purpose of prolonging his own pleasure. He keeps her twitching a few moments after he has finished, feeling her jerks at his fingertips.)

 

She whines for mercy. She can't come again. 

 

Her hand flies to the tiles.

 

Slams her hand on it hard. Twice.

 

Then everything stops. He removes his finger. Her knees give in. Kylo collapses with her to the ground, cock still buried in her.

 

The water falls from above. The soft pitter-patter mixes with their hard breathing. She doesn't even have energy to take out her gag. 

 

She doesn't know if she is allowed to.

 

His chest heaves against her back. His skin is hot. His body is heavy. She feels safe. 

 

(He takes a deep breath against her shoulder blades where his forehead is resting. Pulls out his dick and the condom carefully.

 

_ God.  _

 

God is a woman.

 

God is  _ this _ woman.

 

With unsteady legs, he staggers to the bin to discard both condoms. His ears are ringing. On autopilot, he washes his hand thoroughly. In his delirium, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face is red. His chest is red. His hair sticks to his head. His huge ears poke out. He is  _ debauched _ .)

 

She waits for him on the ground in child's pose. She doesn't care anymore about manners, pretenses. Her forehead rests against the tile on the floor. Her arms hang limply at her sides.

 

Her breathing evens out. The colorful dots behind her eyelids settle. 

 

"Rey," she hears him speak with a hoarse voice. His huge hands close on her shoulders. He pulls. Pulls her up from the ground. In his embrace. Pries the towel from her mouth. She reclines against his broad, warm chest. Sags between his legs. Her head lulls on his shoulder. 

 

"You're unbelievable to fuck," he murmurs.

 

She snorts powerlessly. Smiles. Feels him kiss her neck.

 

(He is wondering if he accidentally  _ did _ do personal, after all. He hasn't broken any of his rules. And yet…)

 

They sit there on the ground under the warm water, until it starts to feel lukewarm. 

 

He stirs.

 

"I'll get the breakfast." 

 

(And yet…)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know how you liked this! I literally live for your comments. 
> 
> Follow me on twitter for snippets: reylotrashpiler.
> 
> Also: do your research on anal IRL and talk more with your partner than this. :D I tried to write it as safe and realistic as possible, but you should use WAAAYYY more lube for this fun. ;D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. Mind the tags.

The lights of the city stretch below her for miles.  _ Stars dragged down to be slaves of mankind,  _ Rey thinks.

She tilts her head back in the sunchair on the rooftop terrace of his condo in Manhattan -  to see a smooth black night sky, bereft of the white dots that would normally litter it. 

_ So it's true. _

She tries to get used to this, tries to acclimate herself to the opulence while waiting for him to come back with drinks. 

He greeted her with a  _ hi _ , which somehow carried more meaning than an entire monologue. He hasn’t touched her, not even accidentally, since she entered his apartment some twenty minutes ago. He also didn't bother getting her coat - and she strangely appreciates that he feels no need to be anything other than his crude self around her.

She burrows herself deeper in the soft blanket against the chill of the early autumn night. 

Her eyes fall on the cover page of the latest issue of Rolling Stone that she brought him as an excuse to see him. Kylo stares back; all bad boy in a leather jacket and tousled jet-black hair. 

She squirms.

He could have anyone.

Maybe he did. 

She has no way of knowing.

They haven't spoken much in the last month, him busy doing press and shooting top-secret projects. 

Only occasional texts that made the blood run to her head. 

She wanted to find out in the interview why everyone loves him when he is rumoured to be a diva on set. She knows it now. He is oddly attentive underneath that cold shell he wears against the world, against the attention which claws at him, trying to bite pieces out of him until there is nothing left.

He is careful not to give away too much - thus his interview, in which he talked about growing up in the midst of political intricacies and then following his father to the ranks of the Air Force, made the issue the hottest hit. 

_ "Sometimes… sometimes I think I was running from one extreme to another. From tiptoeing around each other to slamming everything in each other's faces. Then from the reality of life and death to an artificial world where nothing means anything,"  _ he told her off record.

The heavily edited version - result of a wrestling match with his manager - was still snatched away. The issue had to be reprinted twice. 

Rey was celebrated. Hated on. Accused of sleeping her way into this interview.

Partially, she did. But she didn't humiliate herself by explaining that Kylo doesn't do anything he doesn't want to (and does everything he  _ wants _ to), come hell or high water.

Oh, she pushed him alright. Accused him of being boring. Too careful.

She remembers the way he held her gaze in the interview when he told her "let me make a call". She could hear a woman, probably his manager, Gwendolyn Phasma, yell something at him. Her best guess is that he shouldn't lose his mind and "let her ask anything". 

He only smirked with that calm confidence of his. In the end, Rey got to ask every question she wanted.

One condition: she would also let herself get cross examined.

He got permission for her because _ wanted _ to tell her things. Just like he _ wanted _ to fuck her until she mewled under him to stop.

And he wanted to see her again. 

He did say so in a text the day the issue hit the racks.

_ "It's time for my questions, Rey. Come see me in New York." _

So, here she is, staring at the sea of lights at her feet and listening to the murmur of a city that never quite sleeps. In the distance, she can make out the Empire State Building. If she squints, maybe also the Statue of Liberty.

The doors slide open with a soft susurration behind her. His presence is tangible, like his aura has physical manifestation. 

She sits up straighter.

"Here," he rumbles from above and hands her a Kir Royale. 

She takes the flute. He settles in the twin of her chair on the other side of the table, folding his long limbs like an elaborate origami. The issue sits between them like evidence of a crime scene. Millions of people have irrevocable proof that they have been in the same room.

His drink seems to be much more straightforward. Whiskey neat.

"I can't believe you had creme de cassis," she mumbles after the first sip.

"I have more parties here than you can imagine," he answers with a hint of disdain. 

_ "I actually hate the fame which comes with this job. It's suffocating. But I don't think I have a right to complain. Everything comes at a price. And as long as I get to act, I'm willing to pay this price." _

_ He paused the recording here. _

_ "But it means that sometimes I feel like it's a debt that I can't repay. I have only one soul and not two." _

She hums. The more he opens up to her, the more she understands that inside he is an elusive creature who blows his shadows big for his own protection. 

They sit in silence for a while. It's a silence before the storm hits. The birds don't chirp. The predators retreat into hiding.

His voice is a thunder in the calm.

"Tell me about yourself."

He doesn't know how to ask other than giving commands.

Her words start like a gentle pattering of rain. Just a few drops.

"I'm Rey. Just a journalist."

He turns to look at her with the outrage of a lightning strike.

"Really?” 

She glances at him. Somehow, she gets the feeling that he is not convinced by her explanation.

He wants to know  _ everything. _

There is no hiding from him. She can try. But he  _ will _ find out. He  _ will _ get his answers.

She is watching the glimmering city lights while the words pour out of her.

"I started writing to get away from my sorry ass life in the foster home."

She snorts.

"First, it wasn't writing at all. I made up stories. Told them in my head all day. About witches and wizards. About people who fall in love. That's all I had. That was all I clung on to. The whole bloody time. When I was shuffled around from one family to another… When I was told I'm  _ too problematic. _ "

She drinks her cocktail to get the lump in her throat to loosen.

Kylo is a strange therapist. He broods and suddenly she doesn't dare to tell him anything less than her deepest and darkest secrets. It's liberating to be so exposed. Stripped down to her bones, and Kylo still demands to taste the marrow.

"And I took away your command over your words."

His rumble, hoarse and faint and seeped through with so much  _ regret _ for which even the forgiveness of God wouldn't be enough makes her snap out of her spiralling thoughts.

She looks at him - he is staring at her with a pain in his eyes that knocks her heart askew.

For all his intelligence and wit, he doesn't understand that what he has done is not a  _ crime _ .

It's  _ redemption _ .

"I don't need them with you. You're a fairytale come alive." 

She doesn’t know why she is so calm about this. Why the truth slips out of her so easily. Why it doesn't hurt to rip open her soul so fast for him. 

But it might be too much for  _ him,  _ and she intently stares into the flute, watching the bubbles stream up from the bottom.

She can also feel his stare burn a hole in her head. Couldn't he be less  _ volcanic?  _ Just a little less intense? 

She knows he cannot. And she doesn't really wish he were.

He is a shield against the world because he is  _ a lot. _ More than a person can possibly handle. She caves under the weight of trying to hold him upright on her shoulders. He requires all her attention. A constant riddle to be solved. A puzzle to be pieced together.

He doesn't seem to react to her confession. Funny, how he is praised as the actor of his generation yet is literally incapable of expressing emotions when not scripted.

"Let's take this inside," he says at last. 

She glances at him. He waits for her patiently to make her move. 

Obediently, she scrambles out of her seat. He is already waiting for her at the door. She wonders whether he can teleport; she didn't even notice him standing up. 

The tinted glass gives a distorted reflection of them. Against the backdrop of the city, their silhouettes emerge like a pair of ancient, dark gods.

With a wave of his hand, he opens the automatic doors and gestures for her to step inside. His kitchen is illuminated by soft lights above the counter. The gold-brown mosaic tiles glow against the black cupboards. In the middle, a kitchen island occupies the space. Rey didn't really have time to look around the apartment, but what she has gathered is the exact minimalist style she had expected.

"Do you want anything else? Food? Drink?” he asks her while he steps to the fridge and pulls out a huge jar of cold water. 

"Maybe something to eat," she says. Now that he mentions it, she can't remember the last time she ate. Maybe on her flight? 

The first class ticket he bought her made the journey an experience instead of torture, but still… London isn't exactly around the corner. 

He wordlessly pulls out a cold platter, laden with ham, cheese and grapes. 

She stares at the green globes. 

"I thought you liked grapes,” he supplies. 

When she looks at him, he sees him smile mischievously.

It's contagious.

"I do. Thank you."

"Of course. Anything you want."

She suppresses an urge to snort. What can he possibly know of what she wants? She stuffs her mouth instead with a prosciutto, and munches on it, while he produces bread and muskmelon slices from somewhere. 

As she lets the Mediterranean dinner melt on her tongue, she thinks that maybe he  _ does _ know what she wants. Without even asking. It's scary.

He breaks the silence.

"What did they say about the interview?" 

"Who do you mean?" she asks him to clarify.

"Your editor, for example. You said she is very thorough. That she even listens to the recordings."

She does. She did, this time, too, and Rey has never been more grateful for having the foresight of allowing Kylo to pause the recording any time. He did it, often. 

Still, she doesn't feel any more familiar with him than a first-time visitor with an overwhelming museum. She has seen things haphazardly put in the spotlight, sensed others in the shadows. He isn't exactly a stranger anymore. But she wouldn't claim she knows him, either.

She swallows the tender cheese and grapes and shrugs.

"She asked me how I did this. How I got you to open up like that."

"And? Did you tell her?” 

Their gazes meet above the plate. He smirks at her knowingly from the other end of the kitchen as he casually leans against the counter. He is dressed to blend in, she thinks, with his black button down and the amber whisky in his hand.

"No. It wasn't on record."

He guffaws. ( _ The sound breaks out of him unsolicitedly. Her excuse is so  _ absurd _ , yet so bulletproof. After all, she  _ promised _ him nothing off record would leave the room. Seems like she takes promises seriously. _ )

"No. It wasn't," he concedes with a little headshake.

She wipes her smiling lips and hands on a cloth he has put in front of her. Her stomach is the size of a tennis ball at the most. 

"Was that enough?" She hears the doubt in his voice.

"For now," she nods.

He hums. Drinks one more sip.

They look at each other for a long time. 

( _ He wants to ask for her permission to fuck her. He wants her so bad. After what she has told him, he needs to set some records straight for her. Were he less inept at soul-searching, maybe he could talk it through with her. But he has always been the most comfortable with physical actions. He always gives his all. _ )

"Would you like to spend the night?” he asks her at last. 

The air shifts in the room.

( _ Good. Let's ease into this. _ )

Rey bites her cheek to prevent laughing. A smile still makes it onto her face. She doesn't understand why he feels the need to tiptoe around her.

Doesn't he realize that he has disassembled her and put her back together in an unexpected way? She doesn't think her gears tick right ever since they met.

"I was afraid you wouldn't ask."

Isn't this a booty call? A very  _ extravagant _ booty call.

"You know you can say no. To anything." 

He is stern, like he is reiterating something she should know by now.

_ Rich, coming from a guy who calls her his plaything. _

"But I don't want to. I would like to spend the night."

She doesn't mind losing the 50 dollars she spent on her hostel bed.

He nods. Pauses.

"Will you need a safe word?” 

( _ The flutter of her eyelids is nigh imperceivable. _ )

"Interview."

He hums amusedly. ( _ His good little kestrel. Back for a hunt. _ )

When he knocks back the remainder of his drink, he sets the glass on the counter and licks his lips.

"Let's get you a shower then."

He takes the lead, and she follows. 

With the patience of a host, he opens a door for her. The bathroom is simple and airy, grey concrete dominating the room, complemented by natural wood in the sink and around the round mirror. The shower is simply a space separated by a huge glass door at the end of the room.

"Take your time. When you're done, go to my playroom. It's on this corridor. I'll leave the lights on. Kneel on the rug wrapped in a towel only and wait for me. I need to take care of a few things."

He lingers just a beat more, staring at her lips and biting his own. 

( _ He fights with himself. She is already here in one of his apartments. How much more personal can this get? Why not just kiss her? _ )

He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. 

"I can't wait to fuck you," he whispers as a parting gift. 

She blushes. Gapes at him.

He  _ does _ take away her words.

When the door closes, she undresses swiftly and takes off a coffee-coloured towel from the racks. She scrubs and dries herself efficiently.

When she is done, she pads to the only open door on the corridor in a dry towel.

The  _ playroom, _ as he called it, has an inviting mahogany color. A huge canopy bed commands the room. In front of it lies a white rug. There are cupboards everywhere in black, and even though the whole vibe is unmistakably erotic, at least it doesn't look like a modern torture dungeon. 

She kneels on the rug, facing the bed. He hasn't given her explicit instructions on the direction, so Rey decides to ensure herself a little surprise. 

Soon enough, she hears his shoes click on the hardwood floor. The door closes. 

A frisson runs along her body, making her skin pebble. Her heart drums patiently, feigning nonchalance. It should race. All it does is pump with a force which she feels in her head.

"Such a good girl," he praises.

( _ She definitely knows how to tease him even when she is the one giving up control. The towel barely covers her ass. Her elegant shoulder blades and her white little feet poke out from it. His gaze follows her delicate neck which is left on display as her hair is fixed on the back of her head in a messy bun. She has a thin bikini tan line on her bronze skin. He doesn't like the thought of other men ogling her on the beach, but he finds solace in the fairly certain fact that no one can fuck her like he can.  _

_ Her presence is a Xanax. No wonder he couldn't look at any other woman since he met her. The sad jerk-off sessions are all worth it, now that she is here with him. _

_ Calmly, he walks to her. Sets two glasses and the jar of water on one of the drawers and pours her a portion. _ )

When he steps in her field of vision, she stares up at him.

Her heart pumps in her throat now. She doesn't feel the anxiety of the unknown this time. She only feels so  _ excited _ .

Finally, she doesn't have to be the narrator. Instead, she gets to be the protagonist of her own story. Kylo will take care of the plotline.

She cherishes the feeling of not being in charge. Of not knowing what will happen. Of the challenge to follow his commands as precisely as possible.

Of being a piece on his chessboard.

( _ He can see the trust in her eyes. The eagerness to meet his demands. _ )

There is a glass of water in his hand.

"Hands on your thighs. Drink," he says, but instead of handing her the glass, slowly tilts it until the liquid spills over and the drops form a thin fountain.

She doesn't waste her time opening up her mouth and catching the droplets with her tongue, like she would be drinking from the tap.

The water spills on her, runs down her cleavage, under the towel and makes her nipples harden against the fabric. She has to close her eyes. 

( _ She  _ loves _ this, he thinks while his cock gets hard from watching her pink tongue work frantically trying to swipe in the water. He lifts the glass so she has more time and also so that it splatters her face like his cum would. _ )

The water stops.

"Don't open your eyes."

She can't, anyway. The droplets sit on her eyelids, and she isn't allowed to move her hands.

The darkness heightens her senses. She hears him open and close doors. 

Is it normal that she is getting wet at this? 

A soft, silky material is slipped over her eyes.

When he is done fastening it, he closes his hands on her shoulders and kisses her neck. She tilts her head to grant him better access. He accepts her silent plea, lips tracing her lightly. Then he retreats, and the next thing she feels are his fingers as he unwraps the towel.

She gasps as the air hits her wet skin. 

"You have no fucking idea how much you turn me on, Rey," she hears him murmur.

( _ She is completely bare. He looks down at her, sees the rapid fall and rise of her chest and that she inhales through her parted lips. With the soft head of the riding crop in his hand, he nudges her legs apart. He runs it along her inner thighs, stopping short of her pussy. He begins to pace around her, dragging the soft leather patch over her skin. _ )

"Who told you you were problematic?” he asks her while tilting her head up with a gentle prod of a stick under her chin.

"My second foster father.” She breathes the answer.

"What did you do?” The soft patch of leather travels down her throat, between her breasts and belly down to her core.

He presses down on her clit without rubbing, and she gasps.

"I took apart his remote control car."

Kylo laughs. ( _ What a loser. What an utter  _ jerk _ that man must have been. A child himself. _ )

She chortles.

"You know what I think?” he murmurs when he catches his breath.

"What?" 

The leather travels to her nipple, and he rolls it. She squirms the best she can. Her pussy gushes.

"I think they weren't good enough for you. You were problematic to them, because they didn't know how to handle you. But in the right hands," he cradles her cheek in his warm, plush palm, and massages her scalp with his fingertips, "you can be such a good girl. Isn't that right, Rey?"

"Yes,” she purrs.

( _ She again nuzzles his palm, like she did back at their first meeting. His girl needs affection. Affirmation. _ )

"I am not one of those manchild losers, Rey. I'm a man. I know how to handle you. Don't you agree?”

His thumb is caressing her lips. 

He seems to do it often; Rey has no idea why. She likes it, though. The small touch feels more intimate than any other he grants her.

She recalls their tryst. The way he manhandled her into the best sex of her life.  

Oh, stars.

"Yes, you do." She breathes the dewy word against his skin.

"You know what your problem is, Rey?” he says as he withdraws his palm. She feels oddly cold and robbed as his warmth leaves her. The click of his shoes on the floor signals that he moves away from her again.

"No." She gulps in the silence. When he doesn't speak, she asks over the soft clicks of the cupboards. "Please, tell me."

He returns to her. The leather patch connects to her neck and he starts making rounds around her while dragging the crop on her body in one single line.

"Your curiosity. You're  _ very _ curious, Rey. And some people,  _ lesser people,  _ don't like this. They don't know how to sate your thirst for unearthing knowledge. Because they cannot steer you. Therefore they  _ fear  _ you."

His paces are measured.

"You always need to have something new. Something _ exciting _ , don't you? You come here and sit with your back to the entrance, letting me surprise you. You come to my room for an interview, then suck my soul out through my cock.  _ Let me fuck your face. _ Let me tie you up and gag you. You dive headfirst into something you have no idea about."

He swats her lightly with the crop on her arm. The pain is a mosquito bite.

"It's reckless, Rey. Brave, but reckless. And  _ curious. _ "

She admits, he is really good at reading her. All her life, she went for that  _ carpe diem _ feeling. She never could know whether there would be a tomorrow. 

More often than not, she has also burnt herself.

She is brought back into reality when he stops in front of her.

"Lucky for you, I know how to channel this hunger. So we're going to explore some things today. I want to find out how many times you can come. Aren't you curious to know it, Rey?”

Her skin pebbles.  _ So many orgasms _ . She gulps.

"Yes, I am."

He clicks his tongue in satisfaction.

"Good. Now prove to me that you can be my good girl."

The leather patch presses against her right arm snugly.

"Rise."

She does, although her legs are a little unstable. She feels him nudge her forward until her shin bumps against the bed. 

"Lay down on your back," he instructs her.

She does, slowly, mapping the surface with her hands.

The soft patch never leaves her: a constant reminder of his presence. Rey knows he won't leave her in the dark. He keeps her at arm's length, yet she’s never felt so cared for. So at the center of attention.

"Spread your limbs for me, Rey."

The silk sheets wrinkle as she drags her legs and hands apart.

"I'm going to restrain you, Rey. Wrap cuffs around your pretty little ankles and wrists. I can't trust those hands, can I? They pick apart everything."

( _ The sight of her blindfolded and spread like a starfish on his bed… it sears into his brain. Her tits and pussy are highlighted by white triangles against her otherwise bronze skin. He hopes he can see her once in a hot little bikini and fuck her on a beach in Hawaii. Meanwhile, he gets to work. _ )

"Do you still pick apart things, Rey?” 

( _ Other than my heart. _ )

She can hear the distinct sound of Velcro opening. The next moment, a plush material envelops her right wrist. He secures it. 

"No. Not anymore," she answers.

She waits for some kind of panic to kick in as she loses her freedom, but it doesn't. She feels safe in his hands. 

"Then what do you do with those nimble fingers of yours?”

( _ He tests the restraints, making sure it isn't hurting her unnecessarily and that he can take it off if she needs him to. _ )

"I make jewelry."

Her other wrist gets bound, too. His touch as he lifts her limb from the cool sheets feels reverent. 

Is his undivided attention making this so exquisite? He tends to her with the utmost care. He secures her like fragile cargo - a precious possession that he needs to be safe. 

"I sell them on Etsy," she adds, while he now binds her left ankle. 

Kylo hums approvingly. ( _ He files away the unusual information for further use. She is so… so…  _ helpless _ like this. Her pleasure, her safety, her soul is in his hands.  _

_ The agitation of the monster inside stills.  _

_ He takes a deep breath, feeling the knots in his soul loosen.  _

_ She is  _ here _ , with  _ him _ , in his  _ bed _ and she literally can't go anywhere unless he allows her to. _

_ There is nothing he wants more now than to make her  _ want _ to stay with him here even when she would have to go eventually. _

_ He admires her again. Her slit is already glistening with wetness and she squirms gently against the restraints. _ )

"You're fucking  _ intoxicating _ , Rey," he confesses to her. ( _ Words don't do justice for what he feels; this  _ wholeness _. This  _ peace _. _ )

Her head is hot and heavy all of a sudden. Kylo's words betray a dark longing; a panther behind thin bars. He is  _ hungry. _

_ What have you gotten yourself into, naive gazelle. _

Yet, she trusts him. 

"Do what you need to," she whispers. 

"At your command," he humours her. 

Clothes rustle. Rey guesses he is disrobing.  _ Finally,  _ she wants to add. She remembers the feel of his skin on hers as he thrust into her from behind so satisfyingly. The way his body swallowed her up whole and claimed all her attention. The way she felt free and flying while trying to meet his obnoxiously high standards. 

A soft thud hits her ears somewhere from the direction of her feet, and then his hands trail over her legs, running up the soft skin on her inner thighs. 

"If you get to five, you may choose where to have my cock. So don't forget to count, baby,” he murmurs.

_ What _ fries on her brain when his tongue connects with her center. He takes his time mapping her out. Runs the broad tongue along her labia, then flicks it over her clit. 

Her toes curl, her hands thrash against the restraints as the urge to bury her fingers in his lush hair overcomes her. He licks just a little too lightly for her liking, missing  _ the _ spot by just an inch - and it's outright infuriating that she can't yank his head where she fucking  _ needs _ it.

"Impatient?" he asks smugly.

She suppresses a whine in her throat.

"Very," she croaks.

He dives back in. Instead of answering, he continues teasing her. The shape of his tongue changes by the minute. Sometimes, it leaves broad, wet stripes. Sometimes it shrinks to little, firm dot that pokes at her clit, at her entrance. 

But he doesn't give her what she needs. 

She hears the metal in her restraints thud against the bed as her limbs fight against them. Her body gyrates. It's useless. The reins are tight, not really allowing her any movement.

His tongue starts to loop around her clit with focus. Slowly, lightly. 

It's not enough. 

_ Harder, _ she wants to bellow at him. _ Suck it, _ she wants to command him.

But she knows better than to act on those urges. Instead, she whines.

"You wanna cum?” he taunts.

"Yes!" She hastens to agree,  _ yes, yes, yes _ she wants to come very much. 

He withdraws completely right as the word leaves her lips. 

" _ Why?!"  _ Rey yelps needily, feeling betrayed. She has been a good girl, hasn't she? 

Isn't that how this is supposed to work? 

She behaves and he fucks orgasm after orgasm out of her? 

"Hush, baby. You want to save your vocal cords for this one, trust me."

He doesn't sound like he is kidding. He sounds like he’s warning her.

Her arousal has cooled just to  _ this _ side of bearable when he comes back and laves at her. Once. Twice. 

A vibrator whirrs to life. 

"Remember to count, Rey. I think you can go at least five times."

She prepares for the well-known feeling of a silicone dildo slipping into her. 

Instead, Kylo pushes up the hood of her clit, and the device sucks at her flesh. 

"Oh!”

Her clit throbs. She can feel stimulation where she didn't even think she had nerves. Somehow, it's not just on the outside. She feels it  _ under _ her skin.

The pleasure comes in pulses, and the vibrator creates a gentle suction that she missed. It doesn't take long until she feels the inevitable approaching. Her back arches. 

( _ Kylo is staring at her with unhinged jaw. Her body is pulled taut in a bow. He could draw her skeleton with anatomical precision - her ribs and hipbones show as the skin stretches on her thin body, her stomach is a flat valley between them. He never ceases to be fascinated by the fact that women fall apart at the touch of such a miniscule part of their body. _ )

Her voice is embarrassingly loud when she comes. She comes hard and long, her body spasming within the confines of her movement.

But Kylo doesn't pull away the vibrator. It keeps going. The stimulation is not uncomfortable, but not welcome, either, destroying the comfort of the afterglow, spurring her on into more.

"Count," she hears him say.

"One,” she moans. 

"Good girl, such a good girl," he whispers, placing kisses on her stomach. "I bet you can go again. My strong girl."

She feels it building. Her orgasm slowly creeps up from far below the surface, inch by inch. 

The past month, her solo sessions stretched longer and longer, going four, five times, hoping against hope to recreate something from the sensation he gave her in the hotel room. She tentatively swiped right on guys on Tinder, too, never going further than texting. 

None of them possessed his eloquence, the weight of his words. Even if she went for men in Kylo's age range, they all seemed but immature boys in comparison.

Rey knew she didn't owe Kylo anything. She wasn't even sure if meeting again was a good idea in general. But with his voice in her ears as she transcribed the interview and daydreaming his hands between her legs, she was doomed to fail to break free from him.

Now, as her legs quiver while her second orgasm tears through her, she cannot bring herself to regret any of the wasted opportunities. She closes her eyes for him, free falling in the darkness, trusting him to catch her. 

_ Reckless _ , just as he said. 

She is wandering in a maze only Kylo knows; what's worse, she is completely content getting lost in it. She enjoys the mystery of discovering what every corner hides. 

She is curious, and he is full of surprises.

"Two," she breathes, powerlessly. 

He shifts, his body now lounging along hers. She feels the heat of his skin, the gentle brush of his fingers on her belly, the rough squeeze on her breast. His lips wrap around her right nipple, and he suckles loudly.

She moans. The pulses keep her clit engaged, and as he bites down on the taut bud of her breast, a new shot of arousal travels through her veins. 

( _ He watches her struggle against the bindings, rubbing his cock while his mouth is full of her flesh. Her chest is flushed. Her abs undulate. Carefully, he adds stimulation, teeth clamping down on her nipple increasingly hard. He makes sure to flick his tongue over the sensitive tip. _ )

Rey  _ howls. _

"Oh… gghh… I can't, I can't," she repeats. Her balled fists hit the bedding with soft thuds.

"You can, baby," Kylo tells her, completely unperturbed. He latches onto the nipple again immediately. 

Rey feels it. Feels her next climax build, slowly, insistently. Her muscles quiver. It hits her like a whip. 

“ _ Three _ \--- “ she grits out. 

Kylo changes position, until he is kneeling at her side, and presses two fingers to the junction of her jaw.

"Your heart rate is up, Rey. I really fucking hope you work out," he says.

"I… oh,  _ fuck,"  _ she pants, "I do."

His words are a distraction, and the pleasure ebbs.

He lets go of her neck and falls square over her, rubbing his erection into her abs.

( _ He watches the red head of his cock slide against her skin with every thrust. To his right, he can see her blissed-out face, the pretty mouth open with the blindfold covering her eyes. Also, her hands pulled apart. To his left, the sonic vibrator feasts at her pussy at the junction of her quivering legs.  _

_ He adds power. Rey comes with a scream, and he watches her from a new angle, feels her body's tremors. _ )

Her head falls back to the bed.

"I… I …. "

"Shut up," Kylo growls. 

Rey whines.

He leaves her, again, with a cooling wet stripe on her belly.

She can feel his tongue lap at her slit.

"Come on, Rey, show me what you got. Two more, sweetie. Soak my fucking face."

The vibe steps up another level, and Rey can't really say whether it's pleasure or pain. Her clit  _ burns.  _

Her legs shake. 

These orgasms are an earthquake compared to her timid rubbing at home. There is no way she can take one more. She wasn't designed to withstand this. She will  _ crumble _ like a house of cards.

"I can't, Kylo, please… please… no more… I …" 

"Safe word, or nothing, Rey!" he snaps at her.

Her mouths clamps shut with a force that rings her jaw. Kylo babbles against her skin encouragingly, filthy words, talking her through it,  _ licking _ and nipping at her labia, but never slipping inside.

( _ He sees in red. Has a vein popped in his eye? He needs to fucking see her come again, see how her body dances for his will, although he is only touching her on one single inch of the entirety of her beautiful, bronze skin _ . 

_ Her moans drive him wild, wilder than he has ever been. They will need to sit down and talk this through, because he doesn't know how he could stop himself from exploring her limits otherwise. _

_ Kylo is pretty sure this thing he feels for Rey isn't healthy anymore. His heart is aching, he wants her so much with him, at all times. His walking, talking little fucktoy that he can pick to pieces every other night and assemble again with parts oiled unnecessarily, with cogwheels cleaned to the point of shining, with pumps and springs thoroughly tested.  _

_ His little fucktoy, who he would order breakfast and dinner for and cuddle like a teddy bear and watch craft rings and necklaces in her little ex-guestroom-turned-studio; who would listen to him mutter his lines while he walks a trench into his hardwood floor.  _

_ His toy that could only be pried from his cold hands. His little, very personal fucktoy. _ )

"Kylo… oh gods, oh, fuck!" 

She whimpers through her clenched teeth. Growls from the exertion. Her head is dizzy, like being tossed around by powerful ocean waves. Endless, unyielding ocean waves.

She comes again and it feels like swallowing saltwater. 

_ Four.  _

She is drowning. She needs a shore. Something to hold onto. 

"One more. One last time, Rey. Come for me, baby, let me see your cute cunt work."

He is panting his words, and with renewed vigor, begins to stimulate her. A hand comes to tweak a nipple, his tongue teases her slit, and the toy pulsates in short, powerful bursts. 

She sees it now. She sees the island. A steep rocky peak, emerging from the vast blue.

This climax builds from deep within her; a balrog rising from the molten lava of her essence, promising a brutal breakthrough.

Rey thinks she is right out  _ afraid _ of what's going to happen.

"Oh my God, Kylo, I'm… I'm…"

She is hyperventilating.

He flattens a warm hand over her heart. She takes deeper breaths; the panic vanishes. 

His tone is calm.

"I know. I'm right here, baby. Come."

As if triggered by his comment, her climax hits her. The lava breaches the hard shell of the surface with devastating force. The igneous stones of her pleasure spurt everywhere, setting the whole surroundings on fire. Her muscles sting. The smoldering liquid glides down to the valley, and glows, hisses, until it solidifies and becomes an inseparable part of the island of her soul. 

They breathe heavily for minutes after that. Rey hears him mutter, feels his careful kisses on her legs. 

( _ He allows her heart rate to settle. His cock is hard, leaking precum, but he denies himself release. He made a promise to Rey, and now he will accept what she chooses. Resting one hand on her, he pulls out a condom from the bedside table. A few pumps later, he rolls it on. _ )

"Where do you want my cock, Rey?“

The question startles her. Did she really make it to five orgasms? But she knows. Knows what she is missing.

( _ Kylo prays that she will let him fuck her pussy. He really,  _ really _ needs to feel the slick squelching of her overworked hole. He wants to see her come on it, too overstimulated to do anything else. _ )

"In me. Inside." 

"Fuck, yes!" He  _ jubilates _ .

Rey smiles. In moments like this, she vaguely understands that she has undone him. 

That he is just as much at her mercy as she is at his.

He tears the Velcro on her ankles open and hikes her legs over his arms. Her hips ache when he forces them to move, stiffened into position.

When he pushes in, Rey howls. It's just too  _ much _ , the length, the stretch, the pleasure.

As soon as he is inside, she knows that nothing can fill the void in her like this. 

He hits home, and, without pulling out, punctuates the mark. 

"God, fuck, your cunt is so wet," Kylo growls. "I’m gonna fuck it so hard, you'll walk funny for days."

He pulls back and slams into her.

Rey winds her hands weakly around the fastenings of her restraints, holding on for dear life.

The noises they emit… it's a textbook case of  _ shagging. _

( _ Kylo watches as his length disappears into her. The slide is seamless beneath her engorged clit. An urge to lick it overcomes him, but he can't. He wants to empty his load. If she allows him, he’ll want to feel her bare: skin to skin, as deep as it goes, and naked as only it can be. _

_ But for now, the sharp shine of her juices on the rubber is enough. He shifts his attention to her face. He can't quite place on which side of pleasure and pain she is: the good or the unbearable. Strangely enough, he revels in it. He will leave an imprint on her soul. She will leave him, but she will forever remember him - even in the daylight, on broad and straight roads, her heart will follow the abandoned, dark maze to its center, where she first belonged to someone. _

_ To her monster. _ )

His skin slaps sharply on hers. 

Rey yells.

"It's too fucking much, Kylo, I can't—" Here, she interrupts herself with a caged growl.

"I fucking," he sends his hips with a force against her that rattles her teeth, "told you to safe word or shut the  _ fuck up! _ " 

His pace is a sledgehammer.

"Do you want to fucking SAFE WORD, REY?! Huh?!" 

He yells. He actually  _ shouts _ at her.

His grip is punishing on her body, as if trying to maximize the number of thrusts lest she tells him to stop. 

But she feels it. She feels the dam in her break to pieces; she suddenly  _ knows _ she can give him one more, one last climax.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come, Kylo, fuck,  _ fuckfuckfhh --" _

( _ Her face crunches up, her brows furrow, and Kylo realizes that he knows her little mannerisms by now. He wants to convey that she has done  _ so well _ , that he is here, and he will not leave her in her ruin. Not when she is this exposed, this vulnerable. He will take care of her.      _

_ The pull is stronger than his restraint.  _

_ Almost unconsciously, he slants his mouth over hers, silencing her moans, her sobs when she does convulse on his cock. His tongue licks at her lips, and he wedges one of his hands beneath her head, holding her against his mouth. Her whimpers leave damp patches on his skin; the tremors in her body make him feel like a god.  _

_ When she is done, she kisses him back, chasing after his tongue with her whole head - and just right then, he comes undone, spurting his cum into the condom. _

_ It's violent. The release is sharply sweet, dense like honey. He grunts in satisfaction as it licks at his spine and twitches in his balls. _

_ He imagines he is filling her cute little cunt till his cum spills over. _ )

He doesn't let go of her, even after he finishes. They kiss with the same ferocity they fucked with - as if their heads didn't get the memo. His fingers tighten on her head possessively, and he shoves his tongue deep, persistently, until she wriggles for air.

Then, and only then, he stops, remembering himself.

"Oh, God…" is all he exhales, forehead pressed to hers, between heavy gulps. Rey feels like she’s eavesdropping on an internal monologue.

Reluctantly, he moves, tearing open the Velcro and opening the blindfold. 

Even the dimmed lights feel harsh after complete darkness, so Rey keeps her eyes closed.

He caresses her face, massages her wrists, kisses her eyelids. Then pulls her whole body to him, covers her with a blanket, and lies down next to her. 

The way his fingers slide on her soothingly is in harsh contrast to the minimal contact he has allowed her so far outside of their trysts.

"Rey." 

"Hmm?"

 "We need to talk." 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii, thank you for reading this very BELATED update!! I has taken me a long time to hack this chapter out because I had to go deep (I know it sounds pathetic when it's literally just a PWP), but still... I will come around answering all comments, because I cherish them SO MUCH!!! You have NO IDEA what a comment means to me. I love your feedback, keep it coming!
> 
> Thank you my amazing beta andabatae for the encouraging comments on the draft and for the insanely quick and thorough betaing!!
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this / what you like the most and --- I guess this is a WIP now? Or something like that. A collection of loosely connected one shots in the same 'verse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “— in short: I'd destroy you."
> 
> "I know."
> 
> For long moments, he scans her. 
> 
> "This is real, Rey. This is my proposition."

 

 

Of course he would wake up to this. The old man he is. 33, my ass.

“What are you doing?” he croaks at her back in the kitchen. The stove is on. She is humming.

She peers at him over her shoulder before returning to her cooking, left hand moving.

He didn't know that she was left-handed. It hits him again how little he knows about her in general.

_Except for how to make her come._

The shirt he gave her yesterday night after a long and thorough shower and massage – topped with the rest of her dinner, which she scarfed down – hangs loosely on her lithe body. The black fabric has faded in some places to greyish, but he would never, in a million years, throw it away. It's a relic of the time when he used to get T-shirts as a gift and thus very personal. _Yavin IV,_ the faded letters on its back read - his acting school’s name and number of the class. Rey probably has no idea that she is cooking in a shirt worth hundreds of dollars because of the signatures on its back. Dameron. Hux. Storm. Tico. All the big names in the industry from his class.

Her legs still look better than any of this. He wonders if she is wearing panties. He hopes not.

“Hello to you, too.” She greets him a little sarcastically, not the least offended. She seems to be thoroughly amused instead.

_(She is too jet-lagged and hungry to be skittish. She knows Kylo doesn't mean to offend. He is just… a little unfiltered. Too honest.)_

He groans and buries his face in his palm. He would have given just about anything to preserve this domesticity he stumbled upon, like a hidden gem, an unexpected, _undeserved_ gift. But he just had to open his big fucking mouth and take out his irritation over his inablity to service her — on her.

Frankly, he is angry with himself.

 _He_ should have been the one getting up early in the morning despite the late hour bedtime; _he_ should be the one cooking her breakfast, praying not to burn down the whole complex in the process — because let’s face it, he couldn’t really cook anything more complicated than his protein-oat blend — which isn’t a breakfast for normal people, nor would be the roughly-skinned source-of-protein-animal that he learned to prepare in the military to save his life, but —

“Do you want some?”

She drags him back to the present with a violent gravitation.

“What are you cooking?” he asks instead of answering, stepping closer to snoop. It smells good, fried vegetables and maybe eggs. _Definitely eggs_ , he notices the cracked shells in a pile on the kitchen island.

“Omelette,” she answers.

His hands itch to touch her, but he fears to startle her and cause her to burn herself accidentally. So he firmly clasps them behind his back. He peeks into the pan.

“That’s not an omelette, baby. That’s scrambled eggs,” he says matter-of-factly, seeing the mash dotted with colorful spots of what he supposes are vegetables.

“Eggs whatever,” she mumbles, still looking into the frying pan. Then throws him a little embarrassed look.

He really shouldn’t smile at her, but she is just so adorable, with her tainted cheeks and a look that could kill.

“I’d love some, thank you very much,” he murmurs, lips tugging upward.

Rey beams at him triumphantly.

“It’s literally the only thing I can cook properly, but I am damn good at this,” she chirps.

He is watching her every move, wrapping his head around the fact that Rey is here in his apartment, cooking him breakfast after he fucked her to the brink of existence yesterday. The second coming of Jesus would not surprise him this much, given that he, like the fucking moron he is, has given her the “we need to talk” line right in the middle of her afterglow.

> _"Now?!" she groans between pants. "Could we do it in the morning, instead?“_
> 
> _He smooths her sweaty hair from her forehead._
> 
> _"Of course. Sorry. Let me take care of you now."_

Kylo moves to set the table for two, getting plates and glasses from the cupboard. A silence settles on them, save for the crepitation of the food and the clinking of the tableware on the marble countertop.

He aligns the fork and knife almost obsessively, like he has seen in the restaurants he frequents nowadays. _Again_ , he should say, because he painstakingly remembers learning what a knife rest is at the age of eight.

Speaking of which, he has a work dinner tonight.

 _Fuck_.

Time is running out on him. He really should get on with this thing he is trying to avoid so much. As long as there is no label on what they are, what they could be, he can delude himself into thinking that he could let her go. That he could let her walk out his door with no promise of meeting again.

But Kylo knows better than that. He knows he has not held a woman like he held Rey in a long time. Not in the five years since Lana and him wore out their relationship, not since he swapped a spartan prison for a fancy one. There is time and order to everything, only the activities differ.

Wake up at five. Eat breakfast. Go to the gym. Rehearse. Lunch, sometimes on business. Meet with Gwen to discuss projects. Eat again. Go to training. Rehearse. Dinner, almost certainly on business. And when it’s award season… God have mercy on him.

At the same time, he has been reduced to an old grandpa, who has his own cook for every meal, gets dressed as if he couldn’t do it himself, gets lines fed, interviews prepared — and he wonders if any of this is really worth it. He has become a spectacle. A rare monster brought to the surface and paraded around in a zoo.

But then he gets to turn into someone else — and there, in that moment, he finds it again. His freedom. It’s like a drug — to get away from everything, to be in another world. To escape himself.

_You have to die a little for art._

And Kylo knows all about dying.

“Do you have like a… thing to put under the pan?” Rey asks while opening and closing cupboards. Kylo huffs at just how brazen she is. She comes into his life and rummages around in his carefully compartmentalized secrets, opening the doors and taking a peek at her liking. He lets her. Moreover, he wants to show her. Everything.

"Here," he says and pulls a trivet from a shelf which is too tall for her. The joke is not lost on them.

Rey grimaces. "I would have found a way, you know," she grumbles.

"It's not your fault that you're not a giraffe." He sounds shockingly affectionate even to his own ears.

She laughs. Kylo knows he can be funny. But how could Rey be so — so carefree with this _we need to talk_ looming above their heads?

He angles the spoon in the pan so Rey can serve. It's her cooking, after all.

She piles him two thirds of the food and the rest for herself.

" _Bon appétit,_ " she announces and digs in.

Kylo will never cease to be fascinated by her eating. She radiates pure joy. Like she could come from this.

The eggs are good. He hums to himself, too, and for a while they eat in silence.

Her chestnut hair has gone haywire, her arms still have the creases of the sheet on them. The ghosts of the wrinkles on her forehead are still there. This time, he knows how to shut up, how to bask in this domesticity.

It's been a long time since he has eaten breakfast with a woman after sex, but with Rey it's apparently a custom, natural like a breath. It's dangerous. It might give him the illusion that her presence in his life is natural. The night they shared felt like that.

Now in broad daylight, Kylo sees again that she is like the last shreds of summer; when you wake up at the end of the season, just to feel suffocated by the moist autumn looming around the corner and try desperately to hold on the last warm, dry days. He feels this desperation, the sands of time running through his fingers. He wants to hold onto her with all he has.

"You said you wanted to talk?“ Rey casually offers.

The bite almost goes down the wrong pipe.

"I did," he acknowledges.

"So?“ she prods, chewing a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

He doesn't answer, forcing more food into his mouth, though his knotted stomach revolts.

When he looks up, Rey has stopped eating and is staring at him expectantly.

He swallows and wipes his mouth just to buy some time. When he reaches for the water, Rey shrugs and resumes eating.

"I hope you don't feel like you owe me anything," she explains flatly. "I completely understand how these things work."

( _Of course she does. Everybody is replaceable. A one-way economy of relationships. Her own parents were very bad at recycling._

 _It stings just a little to throw away everyone before they throw_ her _away. Only a little. A needle bite, a necessary vaccination against the disease of attachment. Better to suffer this than the fever._

 _Kylo would be no different. She has decided to take it for what it is_ — _a fairytale she can wake up from any second._

 _A lucid dream._ )

She scrapes the plate clean, even though it's long empty, licking the fork thoroughly.

"Rey," he calls her.

When she looks at him, with eyes too neutral for her vibrant nature, he knows she is hiding something. That her nonchalance cannot be real. Honest.

"You're right. But I want to owe you everything because I want to _own_ you."

There.

He exhales heavily, letting the admission hang in the air.

 _(_ Own you _. Thrill runs down her spine. Nobody_ owned _her. Nobody held onto her. Cautiously, like a starved animal coming for food, she sniffs around.)_

"What do you mean — _own_?"

_(His eyes are almost obsidian, hard as granite. She knows this look. The look of a monster wrapping his leashes tighter around himself because he fears his own power.)_

Kylo shuts his eyes for a moment.

It's so close, his dreams materializing, he can almost taste it. He must not blow this.

For the past month, he has not stopped dreaming about owning her. Owning her every little inch. Tethering her to himself.

It's sick. But he wants it.

He opens his eyes. Rey is coiled to pounce, watching him with rapt attention.

"I want to put a collar on you," he confesses cautiously, voice low and words too clearly articulated.

"A collar," Rey echoes thoughtfully. She is not surprised or outraged — so his little bird knows what he meant?

"Do you —"

"Yes."

Rey doesn't even flinch. She sucks in her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth. She doesn't send him to hell; she mulls over the idea. Her head cocks to the side, contemplating.

"What would this mean — I know what it means, the collar, it's just…" she is searching for the words, eyes wandering around the kitchen like the black doors were the pages of a dictionary, "you're… You're _you._ Our worlds… We — we don't even live on the same continent."

Her green eyes ask for explanation. Kylo almost crumbles. Wants to weep. For several reasons.

First, she is _willing._

Second, she is _smart,_ smart, thus she sees the problem…

And the joke is: she might slip through his fingers, like water.

"I know," he whispers.

_(Kylo looks like he is in pain. This huge man, sitting with arms woven in front of his chest, his biceps bulging… yet his gaze — is bleeding.)_

"Tell me," Rey pleads, just as softly.

He inhales, slowly.

"What I'm asking you is unfair. I can't offer you what you'd deserve for this type of commitment. I can't even show you around the city. We would be torn to shreds."

Kylo thought he knew all about dying. But this conversation is a whole new form.

Rey holds his gaze — and still, she is not telling him to shut up. She is so solemn, waiting for him to explain.

"My work is a constant teleportation — I travel more than the international space station. All I could offer you would be meetings like this — sometimes maybe a week or two. I am emotionally unavailable when working and my mood swings like a pendulum. I also take my work home, but I can't tell you the great part of it. You'd be snooped after, and you probably couldn't tell anyone about this for a long time. You'd have to lie to your friends."

"I know."

"I do not share. I am possessive and jealous."

"I know."

"I do everything in extremes."

"I know."

"I'd buy you everything you'd ever need and could only show my affection through meaningless Amazon gift lists and flowers and restaurants."

"I know."

"I'd be an incubus hovering over your life and inserting myself whenever I can and see fit."

"I kn —“

“— in short: I'd destroy you."

"I know."

For long moments, he scans her.

"This is real, Rey. This is my proposition."

( _She sucks in her lower lip, biting it. Kylo doesn't know that she would not be perturbed by this in the least. As long as she gets to keep her job, Kylo can wish what he wants. She is nobody to no one. She doesn't deserve better than this. To be a call girl.)_

"You have to earn a collar," she points out.

"Yes."

"Have I earned it yet? So soon?“

The doubt in her voice in her own worth, her own significance to him, stokes the fire of possessiveness in Kylo.

_I'd show you, baby girl, how much you've already earned it._

"I'm afraid I'm the one who hasn't," he admits. "This isn't a one-way transaction. You're not a dog. I can't collar you against your will. You need to trust me, completely. And you need to know your boundaries."

"But I do!" she protests, suddenly returning to her fidgeting self after sitting still for so long, as she releases her arms from the pretzel they've been woven in and leans back.

"No, you don't. I was overstepping every time. I should not have pushed you. Not in Cannes. Not last night. You haven't told me your hard limits, your desires —"

“— because I didn't have to! You knew them!"

"I'm good at what I do. Therefore, trust me when I say: we need to negotiate a contract."

Rey _pouts._ Clearly, there is more arguing she wants to do.

She crosses her arms again.

"I don't really have needs." She shrugs, averting her eyes. "I've learned a long time ago not to have any."

"Oh, baby…" Kylo reaches for her without thinking. He leans across the black marble table, closing his hand on her slender forearm. So fragile. So breakable.

She jolts, snapping a confused gaze at him.

Kylo doesn't pull away, although he should. Instead he stares in her eyes. The green whirls, misty like the mountains in rain.

"I'll show you that you have them. That you're allowed to have them. And there is nothing I want more than to try to satisfy them. If you allow me.”

( _She looks at him then and, for the first time, sees Kylo as a person. Everything is suddenly sharp, like her camera lens has been wrongly focused this whole time. The wrinkles from sleep around his eyes. The lint on his night blue sleep shirt. The stubble on his face, around his full lips. And a few, barely visible grey hairs growing from his temple._

 _He is a very handsome and compelling man right then, suddenly smaller than this unattainable god she built in her head._ _Real._

 _She can't ignore how, for the first time, she suddenly is afraid that_ — _whatever this is_ — _no matter how much she insisted that she_ knows — _will_ really _break her. Not the impossible demands. She enjoys a little challenge. But rather because now that his shadows have fallen away, now that he is_ real, _she jolts from her lucid dream. She was prepared to wake up but never anticipated that reality would be one and the same as the dream_. _That the direction of their desires complement each other so perfectly; that he wishes what she secretly does: to be together, tethered together in whatever form. Rey was never prepared for the weight of her dream being so close to becoming her reality._

 _She swam too far without realising it, in waters so deep she'd need a tanker to feel remotely safe. She literally_ is _on the other side of the ocean, in the apartment of a man she barely knows. A man_ everybody _knows. A man who could do anything with her, to her, and could get away with it._

_She gently pulls her arm from his grasp, swallowing thickly the prickly panic. )_

"Rey?“

 _(A man who had her bound to his bed,_ she let him bind her _to his bed —)_

She almost falls off the bar chair as she gets up and sways on her feet. Her freckles stand out against her ashen skin. Kylo rounds the table, calling her name with concern. She doesn't react and falls against the counter on the other side of the kitchen, steadying herself.

"Rey? What's wrong? Please talk to me."

 _(A man who made her feel alive, exquisite,_ special.

 _What if it's_ you _I'll want? What if I like you, who you are, this attentive, violently intense person? What if I will want you for real? To be mine? To feel your rough hands on my waist when I wake, to feel the weight on me when I fall asleep? What if the collar won’t be enough?_

_And what if I’ll hate you outside of the bedroom? What if I meet someone else and fall in love?)_

Kylo knows to recognize a panic when he sees one. He works with people for a living, he _reads_ people for a living.

"I am going to touch you, Rey," he warns her with the best soothing voice he can come up with. "Don't be afraid."

_(Part of her wants to snap at him to stay away. The other, far bigger part wants exactly what he is planning to do._

_There are scars in her, she knows, badly healed scars, scars that will never be gone. Some of them still bleed. But that Kylo wants her, even if she is problematic, even if she is…)_

Carefully, he smooths his palm on the wings of her shoulders. His little bird. Flew too far from home.

"Breathe," he compels her, voice deep and gentle.

> _("Relax. Breathe.")_

He wants to pull her into his embrace, but the burning reminder that his touch caused her to spiral makes him keep a reasonable distance between their bodies.

 _(She could tell him that she doesn't want this. She_ should _tell him to go to hell. But she just wants — for once she just wants to take the easy road. The opulence. The thrill of being someone's best-guarded secret. The thrill of whatever he does to her in bed. And maybe, if Kylo will allow it, to unearth the man in the wolf’s disguise.)_

"Breathe," Kylo repeats and watches her force herself to obey.

_(The black dots at the edge of her vision fade, her lungs expand. His voice must carry magic, she thinks. It creeps in her subconscious when he talks like this, like he talks to her in the bedroom, and she does whatever he tells her to do. His power over her should feel a lot more frightening, except that he never uses it for ulterior motives. Only ever for her own good._

_She leans into his touch.)_

Kylo allows her to drift closer to him. For some reason, after all that has happened between them sexually, outside of the bedroom they behave exactly according to the degree of unfamiliarity that separates them.

He watches her attentively. The worst is over.

"Do you want some water?“

She nods.

He retrieves her glass from the counter and hands it to her. She drinks greedily and then lets the glass click on the marble. He pulls the chair closer and she slumps on it.

He still observes her every movement. Rey keeps avoiding his eyes. Her cheeks glow hot and she distractedly fingers the glass.

"I'm… I'm sorry, it's just…" Rey stammers at last, voice hoarse.

"Do you get these often?“ he asks her so she doesn't have to explain further.

"What?" Rey counters, turning a confused stare at him.

"Panic attacks."

"It's not a panic attack," she waves him off.

"Rey. Part of my training is to know when my scene partner is not feeling well and not because of the character. I know what a panic attack is. I know how to recognize it."

"You make it sound so dramatic…" she mutters irritatedly and rolls her eyes. Drinks.

"Mental health is key for what I do."

"Mental health is a hobby for the rich," Rey mumbles into the glass which she is keen to empty even though there are only a few drops in it.

Her remark renders him speechless. He is a man of many privileges, true. But until now he never thought someone would brush off a panic attack just like this. Like it's a nuisance, bad weather best not to be acknowledged because it will pass. In a way, it will. But it makes him wonder just how lucky he got and just how thin the ice was on which he kept dancing. She could have gotten one mid-scene.

He straightens. This nonsense has to stop. He has to do better for her.

"You said we need to negotiate a contract." Rey changes the topic forcibly.

"Yes," he affirms carefully, trying to focus on the conversation at hand instead of the alarming thoughts.

"Will you see others?"

Rey tries to look like someone who wouldn't mind if he did. But he notes how she is still slumped, as if waiting for a blow.

"No. I will not."

Her eyebrows rise at his quick and resolute answer, but she doesn't challenge it openly.

"Will I have to refrain from doing it?"

Kylo just about wants to drag her back into the playroom to show her how much he doesn't want anyone else touching her perfect body. But, of course, he will do no such thing.

"That depends on our contract," he answers truthfully. "But I'd prefer if you didn't."

She hums and chews on her lip.

"Will I have to love you?“ she asks seriously.

Kylo wants to lie to her. He wants to tell her _so many_ lies. But he can't bring himself to say anything but the truth, even if it hurts him, even if it tears right into _his_ insecurities Rey hasn't got the faintest idea about.

"No."

She hums thoughtfully and scans him for a long time. Kylo tries not to flinch under the weight of it.

"Then what will I have to do?“

"I'll give you a sample contract," he answers a little mechanically, pondering her visceral questions. "I'll ask you to go over it first by yourself and change it as you see fit. Then we will discuss everything between the two of us. And when it's done, I'll expect you to be faithful to it. That's all."

 _That's all._ What dumb phrasing. Like they weren't talking about laying bare their very souls and flesh. Like it was just about buying chocolate. That's also a contract, right? You give the money, they give you the chocolate. Done. That's it.

"Can we amend it?“

> _Will I have to refrain from doing it?_

He suppresses a wince.

“Of course. Anytime."

"Okay."

Rey seems to have calmed down and is now rather immersed in her thoughts.

"You know," she starts, and it's clear that whatever comes next pains her to say it, "I just… I… I just realised that you're right. That I really don't know you at all."

His heart stumbles. Then, she turns to look at him. It takes all of his training to remain neutral and wait for what she has to say. If she wants to back out now, or any other time, he will not prevent it. One word and everything stops. Just like in the bedroom.

"But I'd like to," Rey finishes in a whisper. "I'd like to see what kind of cloth you're cut from. Your best. Your worst."

Kylo exhales, and he is sure he can't act away this relief that washes over him.

"There is nothing that would make me feel happier than you being willing to try."

They stare at each other. It's so — so _raw._ The first time maybe when they exchanged real words, talked about _them_ , what they are, what they could be. This girl, Rey, taking shape in front of him, transforming from a fantasy, from an ethereal pixie to a flesh and blood woman with unexplored depths, with hidden minefields and gems…

He _feels_ she sees this in him, too.

Something sparks in the air and ignites suddenly whatever flammable particles gravitate between them. It explodes. Kylo grabs for her just about the same moment that Rey lurches for his shirt.

They kiss, so hungrily, so desperately, panting and grinding against each other, clawing and tearing at clothes. He almost lost her just before he even had the chance to have her, and if this is the only way they can communicate for now, he wants to show her how desperate he is for her.

He pulls off her — _his_ — shirt, looking at her body. Completely bare.

"You little minx," he growls, and Rey giggles victoriously. She bloody _knew_ what it would do to him.

He kisses her to shut her up. She melts into him, swaying on her tiptoes, relying on his strength alone to stay upright. Sheerly to show off, he holds her with one arm. He grabs her ass greedily, not bothering to be gentle. With the other, he swipes off the kitchen island, the plates and glasses falling off and shattering at the other end.

Rey yelps at the sound, but Kylo doesn't care. He parts her legs and drops to his knees and licks into her. She moans loudly, a mix of pleasure and pain. He remembers what he has done to her in the night and lifts to ask —

"Don't stop,“ Rey warns and yanks his head back to where she wants it by grabbing his hair.

_Fucking kestrel._

He licks with vigor, sucks her clit between his teeth and flicks his tongue over it.

Rey howls.

"Fuck," she growls.

Her legs twitch.

Then he pushes in two fingers at once, just to show her who is boss. She takes them with a wince.

_Fucking take them, take it all._

She does, of course. Stretches around them, and he crooks them.

She comes almost immediately, a hand leaving his hair to hold fast at the marble while he licks her through it, until she pushes away his head.

_(He rises from beneath the table. Rey doesn't know why she ever thought he would be anything less than a demon, now that she is looking at his dark eyes and at his hand, slick with her pussy, wiping away her come from his mouth. He promises ruination.)_

"Shirt off, " she says and pulls her legs on the counter, inviting him to fuck her.

Kylo — for whatever reason — is already shucking off the fabric.

"Are you on pills?“ he asks while staring at her pussy as if he could fuck her with his sheer gaze.

"No," Rey admits. "Just pull out."

Kylo curses. It's very, _very_ tempting. _I must do better._

"Sorry baby, no dicking then," he says with regret and scoops her up from the table, carrying her into the living room. Rey latches onto his neck, kissing and nipping at it, whispering how she would love to feel the stretch of him inside.

"You will feel it," Kylo reassures her and gently puts her down on the plush rug in the middle of the room.

"On your knees, baby," he whispers darkly. Rey faux-pouts and sinks, like the good girl she is. Her hand tugs down his sweatpants, and she licks his cock as soon as it springs free.

He grabs her hair roughly, enough that it hurts, and pushes her down on his shaft.

"Feel the stretch yet, Rey?“

She gags and he lets her off immediately remembering her panic attack.

"Don't," she pants. "Don't go gentle on me."

He tangles her hair between his fingers and guides her back to his groin, pushing her lower so she can lick his balls. She does, staring up at him like this is her favorite activity in the world.

" _Fuck_. You want to be rawed today, right, you little slut?“

It slips his mouth. He freezes.

But Rey only moves up and swallows him to the hilt in one go and Kylo has no time to reconsider if he went too far. He goes further.

"Are you getting wet at this, Rey? Sucking my cock?“

Rey hums around him, and Kylo sees white. This woman will be the death of him. Her hand teases him where her mouth can't, and Kylo knows he won't last.

"You better swallow it all, my little fucktoy."

He makes sure to leave her enough space to breathe when he spurts into her mouth. Her throat works the sticky cum down, every last drop of it.

"Fuck," Kylo breathes, pulling her up and kissing her soundly, tasting their combined musk on her tongue.

Her eyes glow happily. He wants her back in his bed for a good round of cuddling. Then maybe fuck her again.

"Will you show me your jewelry?“ he asks while pressing a kiss to her neck.

Rey giggles.

"Yes."

_(What if I will want you for real? To be mine?)_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO SO sorry for taking *checks calendar* HOLY SHIT !!! 3,5 MONTHS!! to update! :'((( please forgive me. I guess I also have to excuse myself for the angst and sadness in this chapter - but it's always been there in them. 
> 
> That being said, I want to express my gratitude for coming back to this story over and over again and leaving comments (especially skerft!!! <3) and telling me how much you love it. I will come around and answer ALL comments because I cherish each of them like a desert flower the morning mist. Every time you leave a comment I spring and write some words and slowly, I put the chapter together. Therefore, as always, I am asking you to PLEASE leave a comment here, even if it's just an emoji. 
> 
> Thank you andabatae for betaing and trueffle123 for alpha reading. 
> 
> ps: anybody caught The Folk of the Air paraphrases? :))


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I went on a vacation and finally finished this chapter I'm sorry and enjoy!
> 
> Update: I forgot to add this when I uploaded, but for those who might come back: here is a [ Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/15TnYdTELQGkk8x1OqM4he?si=--VY95aUQ2u5CHtNRK0snQ) I compiled while writing. Suggestions are welcome!

Kylo has greeted her with a _hi_ that carried more meaning than an entire monologue. Gwendolyn Phasma doesn't even need to say _that_ much to have a whole conversation with her.

A triumphant look and the ghost of a smirk are all Rey catches when she cranes her neck to look Kylo's manager in the eyes. Impossibly, Gwen is even taller than her client, if not so broad. She fills the doorframe of her condo alright though, breathtaking and imposing even barefoot, wearing her tight leather pants and blinding white top with a confidence of a red carpet creation. On her, everything looks regal. The short Swedish blonde hair and the porcelain white skin come alive in the top.

Under Gwen's piercing blue eyes, she feels transparent. Rey fights a blush threatening to creep up on her face to save _some_ semblance of dignity.

In her embarrassment she forgets to speak. There is not much to explain to the woman she has interacted with countless times — and who already knows the full extent of her visit's cause anyway.

"Come on in," Gwen prompts her after a few seconds of silent understanding between them. She immediately leaves Rey to her own devices. Like a childhood friend who can make herself at home without any explanation.

She hangs up her coat on the greenish-grey wooden panel, takes off her shoes and slips on an errant pair of slippers. The size is thrice hers and Rey briefly wonders if everyone in America is a giant. The huge cars and buildings would certainly make more sense. She sometimes feels like a mouse here. The absence of Kylo's looming presence, which fills the too big places, hits her acutely. She shakes off the feeling of missing something. She shouldn't. They aren't together.

"Do you want anything to drink?” Gwen calls from afar.

The apartment is spacious, breathed to life by muted colors with an occasional pop of powder turquoise, pink, and grey accessories. The accents are scattered in the form of pillows on the wide, white sofas in the living room which opens up to her left. The setting sun's rays, streaming in from the wall-wide windows don everything a golden hue. If heaven has a waiting room, Rey is sure it looks like this.

She answers yes to Gwen's question and observes the focused energy every little detail oozes while she idles. She doesn't mean to pry but Gwen has her photos on display. Some of them are with Kylo at award shows, in hotel rooms or at after parties. They are comfortable around each other, laughing and drinking, mostly. She spots other stars as well; Rose Tico, Adrian Hux, and Poe Dameron. Kylo's classmates from Yavin IV, now she knows. A beautiful black woman with afro hair also makes frequent appearances, usually with Gwen. Their body language skates on the edge of friendly and _more._ Rey wonders who she might be.

"Is she here?"

The accent is British, the voice deep for a woman and hoarse on the edges. It commands attention without trying. Rey whips her head up. The question drifts from the top of the stairs which climb to unknown places from the edge of the living room. Heavy footsteps fall in rapid succession, only to reveal the exact same woman Rey has spotted in the pictures.

Gwen is just returning, tray in her hand.

"Easy, _Jannah_ , don't scare the kid, Jesus!"

But Jannah has other things on her mind. She rushes down the stairs right to Rey, brimming with energy. Rey already feels a little overwhelmed and can very well see what Gwen meant when she warned Jannah not to do what she is doing. Everything feels very intimate very suddenly. It's hard to wrap her head around it.

"Jannah Ackie, _so_ nice to meet you!” the woman rushes out and self-serves a handshake, grabbing after Rey's hand with both of hers.

"Loved your interview with Kylo," she blabbers on while she _rattles_ Rey's hand, "such an insightful and very honest work! You worked _wonders_ with him, I'm telling you!”

Rey smiles meekly, not really knowing how to react to this onslaught of adoration. Meeting these people in Kylo's inner circle feels… surreal.

"Thank you," she tries and Jannah finally lets go of her. Her eyes still shine warmly.

"I guess no further introduction is necessary," Gwen observes amusedly and places the tray with the teapot and an Aperol spritz on the coffee table in the living room.

"You didn't tell me how lovely she was," Jannah remarks to Gwen, as if Rey wasn't even there.

"Do I need to be worried?" Gwen asks, not worried one bit.

"Of course not," Jannah answers warmly and waltzes to Gwen to kiss her on the mouth.

Rey glances away abruptly to give them some privacy. That answers her questions about Jannah and Gwen.

"Better so," Gwen murmurs. "Now let me finish business, mouse."

"Yes, Ma'am." Jannah mockingly salutes and stands straight. "So nice to meet you," she mouths at Rey before she leaves them alone.

Gwen flops down in an armchair, sighing dramatically.

"She's a lot," she mumbles with mock annoyance but a lot of love and drinks from her Aperol Spritz to cure her exhaustion.

_Would Kylo say something like that about her? Does he talk about her?_

Rey settles on a side chair and pours herself some tea. Her nose fills with red berry fragrance, the porcelain under her hand thaws her after the cold autumn wind. Her agitation loosens somewhat. For the first time she feels like she can do this meeting without making a fool of herself.

"So," Gwen begins while the cup is filling up with steaming red liquid, "you really are something else, huh?"

Rey glances at Gwen. Her skin prickles under the manager’s stare. She fidgets on her seating discreetly. The teapot’s china clinks softly on the tray and she makes sure to glue her eyes to the point where they connect. She doesn’t like that their tryst has to be administered with Kylo’s manager. It makes her feel vulnerable and ratted out even though logically she knows that Kylo needs this. That _she_ needs this. She doesn’t know Kylo — but he doesn’t know her either. His star is shining bright right now in Hollywood. Every move, every word, every little gesture is analyzed. Hell, Rey herself helped that happen! Kylo needs reassurances and she needs protection against the sharks that will surely come to circle her. She knows her own kind well enough.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Gwen observes, not unkindly.

“I don’t know what to say,” Rey admits.

“Does it all feel a little too big?”

When Rey looks at Gwen she feels… _understood._ Relief floods her. In that moment, she trusts Gwen.

“It does,” she says although her brain is screaming at her that Gwen is not here to protect _her._ She is here to protect _Kylo._

“I know that feeling,” Gwen smirks and sips her drink. “The first time I met Brad Pitt in the corridor of the agency I thought I was going to pass out.”

“I think I know what you mean.”

They share a look.

Gwen’s eyes glimmer and she drowns another grin in her glass. She gets up and retrieves a huge envelope from a cupboard.

“We better get this done. Ren had me book a sightseeing tour for you until he's busy with his dinner."

Hearing his manager refer to Kylo by his last name is strange but she has no time to dwell on it. Gwen pours the envelope's contents on the coffee table. An iPhone box and several documents slide on the marble surface.

"I hope I managed to get the exact same model you have," Gwen muses while picking up the papers and shuffling through them.

Rey doesn't dare to touch anything. Her heart speeds up and she feels _panic_ creep up her neck. This is what she feared. _This_ is the lurking feeling that doesn't let her enjoy her time here. _This_ is why she was so reluctant to leave Kylo's side.

 

 

> Her hands clutch his arm so hard he hisses into their kiss. Just when she got used to him, she has to leave.

In Kylo's world, she is wandering around without direction. She doesn't know who to trust and what she may tell.

 

 

> "I'll be back, baby, I promise," he murmurs when his bear-sized hands caress her face. Then she's out of the car, pushing in the door, greeting the doorman cheerily, asking for Phasma and presenting her ID card.

The phone is a reminder that it's real. That she is really doing this.

 

 

> She doesn't turn back to watch the black SUV pull away.

"Rey!" Gwen calls her name.

She snaps her eyes to the manager. Gwen purses her lips in what seems to be concern, her eyes scanning Rey.

"Can you get your phone please?"

"Of course," she croaks and retrieves it from her bag in the hallway. While she walks she is trying to do the breathing exercise Kylo taught her.

 

 

> It won't fix things but at least temporarily you have something to rely on.

She holds her breath for eight counts and exhales for another eight. The knot in her stomach loosens. She is trying very hard not to wish for Kylo's presence. For 26 years, she has been good without him. She was prepared to be okay without him for the rest of her life two days ago. But now —

Attachments are frightening to her. Even if it's only the start, barely beginning to materialize, Rey is walking way outside of her comfort zone with Kylo. The only lifeline in this whole situation is that – however unpleasant this administrative procedure is – it _binds_ them together. Better the paper, the secrets, the NDA, the phone than nothing, just a promise. Just his words. Words mean _nothing_. Words are just bricks of a fairytale bubble. Transparent, spun out of air. Elusive like clouds.

Thus better to see and meet his manager, his manager's girlfriend. To have proof. Witnesses. Otherwise she would think herself delusional. Just like she thinks she is when she imagines having heard her mother whisper _I'll come back to you, sweetheart._

She'd think that Kylo's promise of more than just a one night stand is just that. A hallucination. It seems unlikely to her brain that he promised her to be more than just a disposable asset. That he promised her that she would be his favourite toy.

His _only_ toy.

Yet when she sees Gwen on the couch, typing away on her phone, reality hits her again. It's solid and real with its real consequences and real to-do-lists. She is taken care of. Bitterly, Rey adds internally, she will also be _taken care of_ in a different meaning should she become inconvenient.

Gwen is delighted when Rey's silver iPhone X matches the one in the box.

"I wanted to give you exactly the same model so it doesn't get suspicious," Gwen explains, high on her success. "In Hollywood, subtlety is the key when it comes to relationships we want to keep out of the spotlight. A new phone way outside of your usual would be the first to draw attention. And we don't want people to catch a gauge on your notifications, do we?"

Rey forces herself to smile.

"No, we don't."

Her act must be really unconvincing because Gwen pauses and gently touches her knee.

"Look, Rey."

The woman says her name so easily, so _warmly,_ like they are old friends. Rey wishes in that moment, like she has so many times, that her parents would have abandoned her _at least_ with a longer name so she could make a difference about who gets close to her and who doesn't. Long — like Gwendolyn. She could call her _Dear Gwendolyn_ in initial emails, then progress to just _Dear Gwen._ Rey… Rey can only be Rey. Too familiar too soon, a crash without a crumple zone.

"I am sure this is all is very overwhelming —"

"You seem to be well practiced in this," Rey interjects. Deflects. _Attacks?_

"I am one of the best managers right now in Hollywood. Of course I am."

Gwen isn't even offended. Just factual. But now Rey's instinct is out, pushing deeper, harder.

"Do you do this often?"

"For Ren?" Gwen smiles at her nod. "No. Not _often._ Sometimes. Certainly not the whole package. Occasional NDAs, yes. For Poe Dameron, though…" Gwen chuckles uncomfortably, "he — well, he fucks just about anything that moves so — so, yes, I have _procedures_ in place."

Rey nods stiffly.

"Rey, honey, this is for your own protection too," Gwen says, _begging_ her to be okay now. "You have absolutely no idea what people are willing to do just to get close to him. _No idea_."

Rey thinks she knows. She was willing to do a _whole lot of things_ with him, in a very close proximity, too. She almost got herself fired under his spell. So she better keeps her mouth shut. On a fundamental level, she still hasn't decided if she should feel embarrassed over her impulsive decisions to — well, to _fuck_ him in Cannes. She doesn't. But maybe she should?

"All security apps are pre-installed," Gwen explains now that the new iPhone fired up. "I can erase everything from this account should it be necessary. Kylo's number, mine and your other one are already in the system."

She pushes the phone closer to her and retrieves a document.

"NDA from now on for forever. No gossip. You have to set all social media accounts on private and run block chains. No pictures from backstage or travel may be posted. Should anyone ask you, say only nice, generic things about him. And until we say otherwise — _deny_ if any suspicion arises. But you're a professional. I'll trust you on the semantics." Gwen winks at her and conjures a pen seemingly from thin air. She flops to the last page. "Sign here, please."

The document seems to be of several pages, yet Rey doesn't hesitate before signing her name. _Free-falling right into the abyss._ Would she read, she might change her mind about this. She doesn’t want to risk that possibility.

Another envelope.

"Revolut card, on your name, automatically topped up if balance falls under 1,000 dollars. You can also top up any time, it's connected to Ren's card."

Another document.

"Private security in the UK, all approved by us. Please call me if you feel like you need them, we'll arrange someone for you."

Rey feels her throat constrict at this prospect. She knows the cage fight for a good crumble of information intimately. Foster care made her very good at scavenging for them. People just spill their secrets easily for her. She tells herself she is easy to trust because she looks harmless and unimportant. She _is_ harmless and unimportant. She doesn't know what it will feel like to be on the other side. To be examined. To be picked apart.

"And, finally," Gwen announces, fingers pointing at her own chest, " _me_. Full disclosure, Rey. I'm here for my client. I will, at all costs, protect him." Her blue eyes are hard as a glacier.

Rey gulps. She is ready to tell Gwen that she understands. That it's natural. That it's her job —

"Until it serves _his_ security, _his_ reputation, I will protect you as well. So don't break the rules."

A reassurance and a threat all the same. Rey tries to focus.

"I won't," she swears.

Rules. Rules she can do.

"But I know you're on your own here," Gwen continues. "If you have a fight, or just can't suffer his ass any longer —"

She retrieves a key from the bottom of the envelope. The key chain is a fur ball, white and soft. A literal piece of this apartment. Rey is staring at it stupidly.

"A key to this flat. We have a guest room. Use it, if you need it."

Gwen’s eyes bore into her. Rey's well up a little. Buried under the papers, the whole act, there is humanity in Gwen.

"I — _thank you_."

"Us girls, we need to stick together," she whispers conspiratorially and pats Rey's knee.

She nods, speechless. Out of all things, compassion — and frankly, a little disloyalty to Kylo — was not something she expected from Gwendolyn Phasma. Not this woman who used to email her in the middle of the night, requesting yet another edit, tweaking words with his publicist until it conveyed the exact mixture of macho and vulnerable they wanted the public to see.

"Welcome to Hollywood, Rey!" Gwen annonces. They toast on the sofa, tea to the Aperol.

For the first time, Rey lets herself breathe. She smiles at Gwen. Genuinely.

Jannah appears again when Gwen calls for her and, now that Rey apparently gained admission to the inner circle too, hugs her fiercely.

She is chatting Rey's ear off about New York and how different it is to Brighton where she grew up until they arrive at the meeting point with the tour guide.

Gwen explains that it pains her that she can't go with Rey but fans are hyper-focused on Kylo due to his anticipated award nominations and, as reddit forums show, they already know her face is connected to him.

Rey mentally takes a note — the first note of surely many secrets to come under her newly sworn secrecy — that they _do_ monitor the dark corners of the Internet.

So Rey hops out of the SUV alone. Her new iPhone pings in her pocket.

**_< Hi.>_ **

 

Rey feels her lips curl into a grin. Kylo's words on her phone are an oxygen rush. She feels giddy. 

 

< _new phone who dis ? :)))) > _

 

_ < _ **_Very funny. Tour OK? >_ **

 

Knowing that he is thinking of her and is willing to sneak away from an important meeting just to get in contact after hours of being apart reassures her that accepting his offer was a good - albeit _insane_ \- idea. 

< _meeting the guide now!! tysm for that, btw._ >

**_< Nonsense. It should be me.>_ **

She scrambles for words to keep him on. Just a little while longer. 

_ <maybe on halloween? you could be the invisible man and everybody would be none the wiser. ;) > _

_ < _ **_Is that a plan? >_ **

Her breath hitches. Did she just make plans with Kylo? Halloween is just a few weeks away. She could fly over and… 

< _maybe? yes? do you want it to be? > _

_ < _ **_I do. Let's discuss it later. Gotta go back now, baby. >_ **

_Don't leave me yet_ , her heart screams. She reins it. Kylo is _at work._ She has to behave. 

**_<_ ** _bummer :( > _

**_< Indeed. Send me some selfies because I'll be here for a while.>_ **

Hours upon hours without him. She never anticipated how slow they would pass, stretching and glueing to her like molasses. How will days, weeks (maybe months?) feel like? Why isn't she excited anymore to have her bed all to herself? Why does her independence feel meaningless?

She puts these thoughts in parentheses and composes something that doesn't put Kylo off-kilter. He needs to focus.

_< will do. have fun!>_

_**< One more thing: wait for me in lingerie at home.>** _

Her heart skips a beat. _Home._ And also… An order. What does she say to that? What does she call him?

They still haven't gotten around the contract. Kylo spent the whole afternoon asking her questions about her jewellery. Where does she get the metal from? The stones? Why did she start this hobby? How did she learn to do it?

For the first time, it occurred to Rey that her hobby might be _unusual_ and _interesting._ That _she_ might be any of those. Her cheeks heated and she blabbered details she was sure Kylo couldn't possibly want to know. But every time she tried to censor herself, Kylo urged her on with another question. What for, she doesn't know. She namely could see in the reflection of the laptop that he didn't even watch her Etsy page most of the time — he kept watching _her._

She wonders how her face looks like now. What Kylo might see, were they FaceTiming. She closes the screen for a second. Watches her own flushed face, the way she bites her lower lip.

_< yes, sir.>_

She hits send.

***

The evening stretches into infinity. New York is not a place she can cover in a few hours, so she limits herself to the essentials, relying on the tour guide. Rey cherishes the hours out in the open, knowing that she won't be able to walk around so freely in a short time. She thinks of Kylo, what _he_ might tell her about places he loves, how it would feel like to admire the city's lights with him by her side out in public. If he were just a man and not a walking spectacle.

However interesting and overwhelming the experience, Rey only feels whole when Kylo's apartment closes behind her.

The silence falls on her like a blanket. For long moments she is standing in the dark hallway without moving.

She is alone. In his apartment.

Is this what a relationship feels like? Standing in the dark and waiting for the other to appear? Waiting for him to turn on the lights and lead her? To be trusted with this intimacy, with all the secrets stored in here. To _always_ be welcome without explanation?

When she comes to terms with the enormousness of this step, she finally makes her way to the terrace, staring at the city she just got to know a little better.

Kylo hasn't texted her since that brief exchange hours ago. Her selfies were left unopened. Spending this much time on dinner is a strange concept to her. Eating is fast and hurried, protective and competitive in her playbook. Even now, in relative financial stability, she always finishes lunch first no matter how huge the portion is to the great amusement of her colleagues.

She closes the glass doors and makes her way to the bedroom where their clothes lay scattered on the floor, on the sheets, spilling out of her suitcase. Colors mixed with sharp blacks and whites, silk on denim and linen. She has no idea how they got so far. From Kylo sleeping on the couch after and before fucking her, to this domestic comfort, lying in bed in between rounds while he slowly learned who she was.

She touches his shirt, remembering sharply the moment she pulled it off his body — and _buries_ her face in it. The scent of clean laundry and his skin mingle on the fabric.

"What the _hell_ am I doing?" she asks the empty room, words muffled by the shirt.

Inhale, _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,_ exhale _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight._

She folds the shirt neatly on top of the covers and pads to her suitcase to pull out ivory lingerie. The fabric is sheer lace, see through in every inch. She showers and puts it on, then waits in the living room, wrapped in a blanket. A mindless TV show plays on Netflix (she refrains from watching anything with Kylo in it). Her nerves are jittery.

She has no idea when Kylo will return and what his mood will be like. If he'll like her outfit.

***

( _When he gets home — around 2 am — he opens the door like he usually does. Loud and uncaring. His head is still somewhere around the script and the characters they kept talking about with Lor San Tekka. The ideas blur together with the red wine and the finishing rounds of whisky. He only comes to himself when he flicks on the kitchen lights and sees a bundle of creme on his black leather couch._

Rey _._

_He immediately turns off the lights and, all intentions of drinking water forgotten, slyfoots to her._

_Curled in a ball, docile as a kitten, her side is rising and falling steadily. Her head rests on her arm._

_Kylo beats himself mentally that he got so absorbed in his work. She waited for him, and she fell asleep._

_How is he going to live up to the expectations he set for himself? He has gotten so used to being alone, not having to care for anyone. Occasional hookups with castmates and crew members were uncomplicated. But Rey…_

_Rey is different. She_ trusts _him_. _She_ trusts him _to be good to her. To take care of her fragile self-esteem. Of her fragile heart. He has never felt so unworthy of_ anything _in his entire life. Not even about his acceptance to Yavin IV. So he scoops her up, wrapped in the blanket like a package and carries her to bed._

_When he gently eases her onto the sheets, she stirs._ )

"K-Kylo?”

"I'm here baby. Go back to sleep," he hushes her.

"But we —"

"You're tired. Just sleep," Kylo orders her more firmly.

"Okay," she mumbles, and settles down on the mattress.

_(Within a few minutes, she is out cold._

_Kylo exhales. Rakes a hand through his hair. He extracts Rey from the blanket. A low whine catches in his throat as he sees that she has followed his request. The lingerie is to_ die for.

Die another day, Bond, _he tells himself and tucks her under the covers. When he closes the bedroom door, he goes to his office and begins to draft their contract.)_

***

She wakes to the mouth-watering aroma of freshly baked bacon and something sweet. Probably pancakes. And a gentle caress on her shoulder.

She opens her eyes to find Kylo observing her, crouching at her bedside. He has the same look in his eyes. From yesterday afternoon. A look that makes her project feelings on him from her deepest desires — feelings he probably doesn't have for her. Not yet. Maybe not _ever_.

Her stupid heart doesn't care. It heals instantaneously. Forgets everything it felt yesterday, the vortex of doubt she couldn't break free from, not even in her sleep.

She waited and waited. But Kylo hadn’t reacted to her messages all evening. The only plausible explanation settled on her mind like moisture in a basement. That no _dinner_ lasts _this_ long. That dinner was with a woman, other than her. That maybe she was played. That maybe he wasn't honest.

But it's impossible to give merits to these thoughts in the daylight — not when he's looking at her so _gently,_ so _remorsefully_. And like someone who hasn't slept at all.

( _What an idiot he is. How absolutely_ unworthy _of her good and kind heart. Of her beauty. How dare he lay a claim on her. She deserves someone far more gentle. Far more present. Far better._

_But he isn't a nice man, let alone an_ altruistic _man. He wants her. And he will have her, no matter how long it takes to win her over. No matter how much he has to work on himself to keep her.)_

"Hey," she croaks, groggy with sleep.

"Morning. I'm sorry about yesterday."

She sits up in the bed. The food is on the bedside table, topped with a flower. And grapes. Always the grapes.

"Is that what the breakfast is for?"

"Partly. But also because I have something for you."

"Breakfast?"

"Something else."

He hands her papers. Yet another stack. Rey laughs.

"What?"

"You and Gwen have murdered a forest between the two of you," she says.

Kylo smiles.

"What's this?"

"The contract."

Rey starts to flip over the pages hungrily but Kylo stills her hand.

"Have breakfast first, baby. And I wanted to ask if you'd like to get out of the city."

"Away from the crowd?"

"If this is a Taylor Swift song, I swear —"

" _Busted_!"

The room is bright. The day is brilliant. Kylo smirks.

"I guess heaven can't help me now."

Rey chokes on an incredulous laugh.

_Nothing lasts forever._

The lights of their happiness flicker at the unspoken line. Kylo stands abruptly, and places the bed table in her lap.

"Eat," he implores.

Rey takes a bite from the pancake. It's sweet, contrasting with the saltiness of the bacon on its top. She hums in delight. Now she realises that she forgot to eat yesterday night.

"So what do you say?" Kylo circles back to his initial question.

"Sounds good to me." Yet another huge bite goes down and she hurries to demolish more. "Where do we go?"

"I have a logwood house upstate. I thought it might be fun. Haven't been there for a while and I need some fresh air. Need my miles in the forest."

"You run?"

_(Yes. I always, always run. Run from something. You might be the first thing in my life I run_ after. _)_

"Yeah… it's uncomplicated and great cardio. Loads of time to think, too."

Rey grimaces.

"Thanks, I hate it."

"What about flying?"

She pauses a bite, then resumes chewing carefully.

"What do mean?"

Kylo rolls his eyes.

"What could I _possibly_ mean, Rey?"

"You wanna take me flying with a fighter jet? I'm not sure my sto —"

"No, baby. Civilian. I have a small plane. Two seats."

"Showing off, Mr. Ren?"

"Call me Mr. Ren one more time, _doll_ , and we ain't going anywhere today."

Her breath hitches.

"Don't see no problem."

The joke doesn't sit. Kylo purses his lips in irritation. His huge body stands rigid.

"No. Rey. You need to review that contract. We need to sign it. I'm not going to touch you until it's done."

"Not even a kiss?" she pouts.

_(Damn you, woman.)_

"Not even a kiss," he murmurs but steps to the bed and grabs her head to smother their lips together.

_(She tastes like maple syrup and bacon. She tastes like heaven on earth. His ruination.)_

"I guess I'd better start reading then," Rey whispers coyly.

Kylo stares at her with heavy eyes. His breath is _measured._

"If it's done, Rey, I won't hold back. You'll be mine."

The possessiveness makes her skin break out in goosebumps, her nipple pebble and press her thighs together.

"Yours," she echoes.

_(She sounds just as hungry as he feels. No reservation. No dread. Just pure longing.)_

Kylo nods then slowly straightens.

"I'll start packing," he grits out. His eyes _devour_ her.

Rey stifles a chuckle with another big bite of pancake behind his retreating back.

_But this is getting good now._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without your continuous support, I could never have overcome my post-TROS depression and writing block. I will get around and answer all of your comments on the previous chapter, but rest assured: I read every one of them, and if I feel down, I just come and read them again.  
> Kylo's doubts about his shortcomings as a dom are literally a self-insert of mine because I am the shittiest updater (and also this update was probably underwhelming because no porn) and I don't deserve your love. I still take it though, haha :) 
> 
> Thank you fettuccine_alfreylo for betaing this fic and tazwren and trueffle123 for feedbacks ! <3

**Author's Note:**

> So, how did you like this? Please leave a comment if you'd like me to finish what we started here in the next chapter. I promise no plot and more sex. 
> 
> Thank you andabatae for the quick betaing! <3


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